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But I didn't know beans about putting up my hair, and, sure as shootin', didn't have any red lipstick or good smellin' stuff. So I settled for a bath with the nice smelling sea shell shaped soap cousin DJ had given me for my twelfth birthday. I even washed my hair with it.Standing in front of the mirror, brushing my hair until it shone, I looked at my tall drink of water body. I knew I was taller than most girls my age. Compared to the women on TV or in magazines, I looked like a bunch of sticks leaning in the corner. My little titties were just bumps on my flat chest. Very sensitive bumps, I might say. They was always tingling at the strangest times. I'd ask cousin DJ about that, one of these days.I put on clean panties, my favorite pair, they had three little roses on the front. I didn't want to wear a school dress, too plain, but didn't want to wear a Sunday dress either, too frilly. Finally I picked out my white dress with little roses on it. It had buttons down the front from. When I threw it into the kitchen drawer, I noticed that it joined almost a dozen other pens from work. Was I subconsciously stealing supplies? I viewed myself as an honest man. Well, kind of honest, given a series of extramarital couplings. But the babysitters who seduced me and that bossy stranger in the gynecologist's office were almost beyond my control. At least, that was my story and I was sticking to it.Over the next couple of months, I made sure that I left pens from work at work. Then around the house, I found myself scrounging for pens. Whenever I needed one, I couldn't find any. They weren't magically disappearing.Annie was too young. There was only one reasonable explanation. "Harriett, have you seen my pens?" Are they yours? I didn't know I was prohibited from using them."Everything had become justification for an argument. "I meant, pens I brought home from work." From the kitchen drawer? I take one when I need one."She must have left them behind or lost them because she.
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