Sunday is a bad day.

Sunday!
I do not like Sundays. They are boring and I am not allowed to play. I have to wake up at 6 am. The house needs to be cleaned and my mother wants breakfast in bed. I have to make it. She tells me exactly what she wants and if it doesn't look good she is mad and throws it through the bedroom at me. Sometimes my dad helps. I have to carry the tray upstairs. Two long stairs.
My mother is a queen and sits in bed. My father sits next to her. There's no room for me. I have to go downstairs to bring my father's breakfast and next mine.
I do not like breakfast in bed. I do not even sit on the bed but on the chair in front of my mother's dressing table. No one talks to me. I sit with my back faced to them. I can see them in the mirror.
My mother spends hours a day in front of those three mirrors doing her hair. Always her hair. She checks it for hours and I have to watch her from a distance till she asks: "Do you see any bald spots?" Sometimes I tell her where the bald spots are but I do not care if there are any. At times I say "no, no I see nI do not like her and do not like the way she smells. I don't want her to touch me.

I visit the Sunday school.
The teacher is kind and the other children do not really bully me. Most of them I do not know. They are not in my class. I have no friends here but it's quiet.
Sunday school is in my school building too. Only children visit it the parents go to church. That's fine with me. Church is cold and boring and the people are unfriendly. Sometimes Louis visits Sunday school too. He is in my class. Sometimes we meet outside but we are not friends. He never plays with me at school. I still like him. I think he is different too. The teacher at Sunday school tells a story. I love stories and hers are not as boring as the ones in our bible at home. She teaches us songs and we can draw or do some crafts. There is lemonade and we get a biscuit too.
If I go home my parents are home. We do nothing just sit. Working on Sundays is not allowed either is having fun.

On Sundays, we always eat food I do not like.
I have to eat it. All of it but my tummy hurts. My mother doesn't care. I have to finish everything. I ate the soup and vegetables, potatoes, and chicken. I do not like dessert. I don't want it. They let me sit at the table till I ate everything. I can not eat it. I try but I can't I really can't. The food makes me sick. Please, do not make me eat this.
They don't care. The rest of the day I lay on my bed. I can not move my belly hurts, it hurts so much.

June 14, 2002

#kittywu #diary #life