Amping it up

I think this is turning out to be a long winded narrative. I feel like I should reiterate my trigger warning in my very first post.  Yes, I do have quite a history, but I promise that once it's all said and done, I can get to the good stuff, because I do have a happy middle (it feels weird to call it an ending).

My childhood wasn't all bad, of course.  My dad was handy with his hands, working with tools, building stuff.  When I was around 10 I won a go-kart racing contest. He had made the kart.  We weren't rich or even very well off, but we saved and expanded on our home, building a basement and renovating. We even got a pool one summer.

I had a lot of fun in that pool and enjoyed swimming immensely (still do), but it also caused a lot of problems for me as I was growing up.  I developed early, having my period at 9 years old, and was rounding out rapidly from there.  That's when the abuse (verbal and sexual) really started getting out of control.

I would get really lewd looks when I was in my swim suit.  I would get comments, get told jokes and slaps on the bottom.  I felt very self-conscious of the way I looked.  I wasn't skinny, in fact I felt fat, but thinking back on it today, I realize that I was just growing into my curves. I remember, more than a few times, him trying to undo the straps of my bathing suit, pulling down the bottoms, pulling up the top, all in good fun, of course.  Always for a laugh.  He even pulled my underwear down once and showed my butt to my brother, and insist that he take a Polaroid picture (for those of you who are too young, it's a camera that prints out the picture right away).  I don't think I had ever felt so humiliated or angry as that moment.  When my brother refused to give it back, I told my mom.  She gave it back to me and I ripped it into a million pieces.

He also started insisting I kiss him on the mouth.  I always said no or turned my face away, but he would make me feel guilty because I wasn't kissing him the way he wanted.  I was perfectly happy kissing him on the cheek, but he put a lot of effort into convincing me that everyone kissed on the lips in families.  (I know some families really do that, when their kids are babies, and there's nothing wrong with that, in my point of view, but I was around 8-9).  I gave in after a while, but stopped again when I tried to kiss my mom on the lips one day, and she let me down gently, saying only adults who loved each other.  Boy did that stop me in my tracks!  I went back to turning my face when he came to kiss me, and he continued to look hurt.

Throughout all this, he never let up on the back tickling, even though I had long ago stopped asking for them.