I grew up in a sheltered environment. My parents were strict and very protective. They gave me everything I ever wanted in material goods, but some of their notions of life were weird. Let me take you back to a time of innocence when the world had only commercial computers, when sex on TV meant sharing a bed with your clothes on, and when the only violence on TV or in the movies was the sound of the gun going off showing a dying actor with contorted facial expressions, and no blood! - imagine that!

My parents monitored everything we watched on TV. I remember one evening watching an old classic, Splendor in the Grass, and my Dad walking in and catching the love scene, nothing more than sterile kissing (no tongue involved). Well, he blew his top and turned off the TV and then went into a sermon about morality and this was how young girls got pregnant and so on and so forth. He had me so scared, I refused to touch the dial on the TV for fear that through some miracle of osmosis I would be impregnated just by watching a love scene. Well, after that one episode and sermon, I decided that the love scenes were just too good to miss and that I would make certain I used a Kleenex when I turned on the TV and that I was going to educate myself just for future reference.

I recall another time when the parents at my school were invited to an assembly. I was supposed to be the featured singer, but when my mother learned that I was to be alone on stage in front of a hundreds of gazing, lecherous adults, she pulled the plug. I was heart-broken, but Mrs. Kelly, my teacher could not allow such archaic parental notions squash my young heart. She put together a costume and made me as unattractive as possible so that I could still sing the song. It was the voice they came to hear, and hopefully, my voice would not cause lascivious notions in the heads of parents! I was singing a song about a monkey who got into trouble, not "If You Want My Body." I was only eight years old!

There was another time at the beach. I think I was eleven and I had just started to go through puberty. Well, I wanted to go swimming in the ocean, but my mother insisted that I remain sitting on the sand in my bathing suit still underneath my capris. Hell! What was the point of wearing a bathing suit if I couldn't go into the water? When I presented that question to her, all she replied is that I was becoming a young lady and that I could get pregnant. Get pregnant! By just swimming in the damn ocean! Well, I knew not to argue with my mother who would go into a tirade should I even question her reasoning. So, there I was waving at my young brothers running in and out of the water, waving at my girlfriends of the same age who seemed to still have flat stomachs every time they came out of the water. I just sat there and read my books. During those beach visits I read a lot for the next few years until I started going to the beach on my own with my friends while pretending to be at the library. Hell, I read enough books in those formative pre-pubescent years to make up for that lie.
 
There were so many other notions that caused me to question the sanity of my parents. There was that birthday party to which I was invited. My Dad actually would call the party to make certain the chaperoning parents were still there. By the way, my mother made me wear white gloves because that's what the proper young ladies wore. I suspect that that was not the reason. I suspect that she thought I was going to do something wayward like shake hands with a boy, and that would lead to all sorts of passion, kissing and pregnancy! 

High school was a new adventure for me, and more so for my parents. I believe that when I wasn't looking they were sitting in their bedrooms plotting out the strategies to keep their "princess" from falling into a life of ill-repute. Each morning my mother would prepare breakfast, check to see my clothing was in place, which meant my skirts had to be below the knee, and that my hair was combed. Then, off to school I went already planning to redo the whole ensemble into "coolness."  Yep! First stop the girl's bathroom. There, I would meet up with my girlfriends who came fully supplied with eye-liner, belts and hairspray. That skirt became a mini, the dark eyes became smoldering and the hair, no longer in a bob was now punk! Yeah, man! My girls and I had it all - beauty and brains, and we were "cool" - weird, but "cool." High school was fun and we did not lack for male attention, but usually short-lived because unlike some of the more popular girls we did not give out "samples," if you know what I mean.

Well, parents grow old and become mellow. The logic that was illogical was forgotten, and the trauma of other children late in life (surprise!, surprise!) became their all-encompassing focus while I continued to rebel, openly and with carefree panache. Yep, I watched TV in my room and rented my own "R-rated" videos. Later, I convinced Mom and Dad I needed to make it on my own after college. At the beginning, they didn't want to let go, but I guess graduating with Honors from college and not falling victim to the temptations of the flesh may have persuaded them. They finally let go and focused their attention on my sister, ten years younger than me and so innocent - poor child.