Such comments onlyoccasionally bothered me.Ever more confident day by day in my new feminine personality, I flauntedmy style in their lowly faces. "Yo... say B," I laughed at my mother and hernitpicking reference to my report card, "I say S!" as I outlined myfigure.My dad criticized me: "You look slut!"I replied, "Slut live here!" He got mad at that, my bringing sexual shameinto the house.I eschewed traditional Asian women's wear. I despised the formality:hanboks, cheongsams, furisodes, and even. I didn’t know her name, I didn’t need to. If her name had been important enough, I would have been told by Sir upon his return home the previous evening. As it stood, Sir had told me nothing, and I refused to waste the breath it would have taken to ask. I stood in silence and I watched her, and I could tell that it was her neck that plagued her the most. Every time she went to touch at the sensitive flesh, she would flinch, and she would recoil her hand as if it had been burned. Immediately, my. More

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