That's Disgusting

Some would think that title "That's Disgusting" would imply gross spiders, overflowing toilets, things that creep you out. Things of true disgust.
Now I have said "That's disgusting" one hundred million times, but not like you think. No, not because I think everything in life is disgusting. It is because I am a mimic and copied my mother for so long as she stated how disgusting most things are. It has become a  way of life for me (to those close to me) to constantly mimic my mother and father's voices with complete dialogue. "Bill, that's disgusting."

Come along this momentary journey if you will, into my bizarre brain. My mother, a very Catholic,
thrifty scottish woman from a very large family. She wanted 12 kids, but settled for 6.... that would be our dear Frances. Enter  Bill, my father, as Italian as can be, full blooded small knit family from New Jersey.
Coffee klatch, biscotti eating sort..... well, my mom dug the biscotti at least.

They met on an Air  Force Base in England, in a Mess Hall. She was a teacher..... they both apparently liked to eat.
No wonder I am always so hungry. That was  their love affair, food-  'nuff said. Some things never change. I am pretty sure we were conceived by those biscotti....
 " Frances, if I put some biscotti on the bedside.... "
 We know this only happened six times - six children/ six biscotti

My middle sister and  youngest brother do the best imitation of That's Disgusting.
It doesn't take much for anything to be disgusting. 
Or, "What is that filth you are watching on TV," as she sidewinders her way into the room, acting like she is not watching. Repressed Catholic Woman wanting to not be bad.... but "curious." I can just see my sister Anne right now saying oh Frances is "curious."
 We would read Cosmo Magazine in high school. "You girls are reading that filth again, how disgusting."
We would just howl. We would always up the ante so she would say something else was filth or disgusting.

When it was bathing suit time.... picture the 70's, Montgomery Ward's rocked my mom's world.
My sisters would pick  out bikinis, I being the youngest sister and a brat, would pick out practically turtle neck bathing suits and tell my mother "I thought these would be more appropriate for the girls"-  Cute and practical they were. "Practical" was her favorite word. Still hate that word today.
My sisters were on to my shenanigans... couldn't keep a straight face. But it was too late. Mumsy was convinced these 1920's frocks rocked. My job was done. ( Raym just said he liked that I am amusing myself, trust me... doesn't take much)

Any form of affection, skin showing,  well come to think of it..... I don't know what isn't disgusting.
Long hair is "hot." No, not sexy hot... don't get ahead of yourself. "Isn't that hair hot, wouldn't you be so much cooler with it short?" Pixies, butches,  word of the day.  To make one a dude when originally a chick...... that would be my mother's job. Why, I don't know. She tried desperately to make her daughters boyish.
Whatever "filth" happened in her life I will never know. Having been the object of her "filth" was never an easy thing, although I developed a wicked sense of humor and fairly good at imitating them.
Survival, I had to, what was the other choice? Filthy and disgusting constantly~ instead of beauty, love,
sweetness.

I can laugh, but through many bruises developed a tender and compassionate heart for others who carry their own wounds.  Humor may be my defense mechanism at times.... but it really is my JOY.
Laughter just feels so good.