Only 65 II

My aversion to lying about my age began with Pimp Sis. By 13, she was already in the grips of the psychoses(pl) typical of a child prostitute, alongside the more socially acceptable expectations that she would provide childcare for her 8 younger siblings. The 3 whole years between us made me one of her more problematic charges. That 3 whole years didnae make her a respected elder in my child senses. Even less so here in my adult senses. I wouldnae put Big Bro in charge of Baby Sis and there are 5 whole years between them. The wisdom of sibling care is one of the places I was/am in volatile disagreement with my own parents and several of my siblings.

The eldest child/sister's first dream on my radar was cosmetology. I mostly adored being her model. My head was almost as thick as my hair and she could pull freely to get creative in the bubble hair designs that were all the rage in the early and mid 60's. I was even mostly okay with the wash and comb needed to get all that artistry out of my hair after a full day of 5 year old play, but even *I* had my limits. My first haircut was self-administered with a pair of hedging sheers to avoid the comb-out cocktail of hay forts and hairspray. Proof irrelevant, but I never felt Pimp Sis as the natural nurturer our eldest sister is. I felt her as a natural born entrepeneur. Don't accuse me of experting, but I staunchly believe that child prostitution makes an especially ? ? ?dynamic? ? ? training ground for natural born entrepeneurs. When Pimp Sis attempted to make use of the modeling precedent big sis had set, I was modeling an entirely different product. Get your kleenex stuffed bra off my chest, bitch. No, I ain't telling your friend's friend I am 16. Let me be 12! ! !

Fast forward several decades and, despite many doomsayer prophecies to the contrary, I found myself old enough to be called, "Young Lady" again. My initial reaction to the youthenizers was as volatile as my reaction to Pimp Sis's drive to get me to lie about my age, but I was still in active psychotherapy. I was able to separate the trauma from the trigger and gain much needed healing from the experience. I still donae understand youthenizing, but it isnae mine to sort. To each his/her own.

Fast forward another still unciphered set of decades and I find myself contemplating notion of launching a second parenting career at **Only Smokey 65**. What the fuck is ^it^ I am processing here? This particular psycho snot knot feels important butnae too urgent. Leaning gently and awaiting clarity.

Time to start ringing the school train bell.