Jokes on them

A stream. 

Clear water. The laughing hills. Not literally but almost there.

Mummy’s and daddy’s mansion at the foot of the hills. The small balcony to the west. Facing a small lake that had no fish. Not a single one. What a wasteland of water if there’s anything like that.

My huge room. The ugly expensive chandelier hanging solemnly on the gold painted ceiling. The huge lifeless window. I stood there always lonely. The disgusting king size bed. I didn’t like it at all. Not one bit. I hated it like fuck a guy bad. An organdy oriental rug at the middle of the stupid room stuck out. Like a sore thumb or a broken bike light.

The ball room. Who even calls a room ballroom anymore? It’s the twenty first century damn it. A dark viewing room. Set in the recesses of the mansion. The basement! The library. Fifteen bedrooms and one tennis-court-large master bedroom. Seriously? My parents were freaking weird and strange and gross and spiteful and…….

I hate my childhood. It’s like a bad dream relived! Guess what? I had a personal trainer for salsa! Gross, right? I had several horses to my name as if I give a rat’s ass about those dumb beasts. Premium memberships to Zumba, Tango and ballet dance classes. I hate dancing but they didn’t care about my feelings except their high nose stupid nobility!

They even made me wear some dumb tuxedos. I was like a walking manikin. A Michelin man puppet!

My parents were and are still traditional. They still think maintaining a reputable social status is way more important than bringing up their kids in a loving way. My seven siblings are no different. No wonder they all hate me. I am an outcast. A piece of used toilet paper. Am not even included in their weekly family email blast. No Christmas cards. No Easter cards. And definitely no holiday cards whatsoever.

I’ve unresolved family issues but you can’t blame me neither can I blame myself for this. Being a girl and quite daring and particularly arrogant in unique personalized way, wasn’t what any rich family wanted of their children.

My room had pictures of bikers. So many of them. And rockstars with black leather jackets, cute metal bass guitars, freakishly weird but sexy tattoos and wild hair. None of them male. All females. And crushing on them all. You guess it. I also had soccer posters of Diego Maradona and Pele. A practice soccer goalposts. A dozen soccer boots until I had them no more.

My three high strung sisters thought inappropriate! Burnt my boots. Shredded my posters in the family shredder as I watched. From a kids friendly bedroom to the grotesque, weird and practically empty my bedroom was turned. My Thomas the Tank Engine linen bedclothes were replaced by silly silk boring plain bedclothes.

I would have survived that. It spiraled out so quickly and badly. My other four siblings joined in the dumb campaign of making me like girls stuff. They shaved my scraggly hair. Got rid of my rockstar stuff. My guitar which was really not useful but for show.

That wasn’t the end.

Mum and dad sent me to me a girls catholic boarding school! Imagine that! Nuns and not so pretty sisters watching your every move. Worst of all I had to wear some creepy dresses that touched the ankle. With my preference being trousers and scrawny corduroys, you realize that I was in real struggle. Don’t even think of saying corduroys are gross. I liked them damn it!

Sisters Lavohn and Marianne weren’t nice. They made me do shit every day for no apparent reason. I cleaned toilets, washed the Abbott’s clothes at times, set up the church for Mass and that is only the beginning of the list. To cap it all, I was denied any access to the phone. It would not have been any good either way. My family had actually sold me away.

They weren’t coming back for me. Ever. Cut me off.

For seven years since I was eight, I went back home at fifteen. Older and wiser they hoped. And girlish definitely. Ready to be a noble again.

Well, jokes on them because I was way worse now. I was fully gay. A lesbian. Loving women not men! To be fair, I only went back since I had been banished from St Anna girls seminary and boarding school for life. I had been caught having hanky panky with a girl.

With no one else to take me in I had several options. My uncle Jake who is a registered sex offender at large courtesy of his family money. Granny and papa who thought I was weird and so unMillenali. Auntie Motunui with her school of disgusting dogs. Grandma Maano with the unending complaints about her kids.

I only had that one viable choice. Home. Disgusting, right?

I alighted the cab outside of the Millenali Hill gate. That’s my parent’s home. Four minutes later, it’s freaky I remember vividly but after four minutes I was going out of the gate and walking away to the unknown. I found them having lunch and one look at me, I knew that I hadn’t been missed.

My siblings just glanced and went back to eating. Dad stared at me so hard and cruel I shattered inside.

“Why on earth did they let you come home. You aren’t part of the Millenali family no more,”he said and rose up. That hurt so bad but I hoped mum would stand up and hug me and tell me to stay but the hell!

“Hey guards! Get this piece of waste out of my house! “

That didn’t hurt. But seriously who says piece of waste instead of piece of crap! Cutting the long story short, I left Millenali Hill for the last time. Nothing on me except my broken heart. 

To be honest I can’t blame them. I don’t hate them either but I don’t ever want to set my eyes on either one of them. I met a fellow outcast who years later became my wife. We have weathered a lot since I was fifteen. 

Now as I watch my son snoring in bed in his small pretty kid themed bedroom, I feel relieved. At least he’s got good parents who don’t judge him at all. He’s a real jerk at times but we love him so much. I even caught him jerking last week! 

I wish I had been accepted into my family. Not loved but just accepted. It would have at least put away the twenty three years of struggle me and my wife suffered as lesbians in a biased society. 

Jokes on them though. I am happy and so is my small family.