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It is the most boring day of the week. Sunday! The day that nothing is allowed. After serving my parents breakfast on the bed I have to clean the house. My mother doesn't smell nice and I wish my parents wouldn't always fight. It's clear they don't like each other or what they do. My mother complains about my dad how lazy he is and he says she shouldn't spend that much money. She screams and yells at him while he leans against the sink. Arms folded in front of him. He waits, waits for something and she grabs a knife. I see how he smiles which makes him furious. I cry and ask them to stop but they don't care about me. The hallway isn't a safe place to be. The clock starts banging it's 10 o'clock. Sunday school. Quickly I leave through the front door. I am sure the neighbours hear my parents fight but it's Sunday. Sundays are good for taking a rest.
With us, Sundays are not relaxing. It's about cleaning, church and it doesn't feel good to be at home. Even if my parents don't fight you can feel they are angry. Some say it's not that bad because they don't drink. My parents are no drug addicts and not poor. Why that makes my parents better people beat me. They don't care more, they are not friendly or gentle. They still hit me, scold at me, my mother still washes my mouth with soap if I say something even if she's the only one who always scolds and is cursing. The whip and dog leash she beats me with are waiting for me.
"If you are older you need to be the wisest," dad always says but my parents act differently from what they preach.
We had chicken for dinner and again a pudding that makes me gag. Homemade with green and orange hard pieces in it. I sat and sat at the dinner table till dad sent me to bed.
August 22, 2021
The teacher is nice. He is kind to everyone. I sit nearly the back. All tables stay in rows. Ellen sits next to me and on my right side is a window. I can see the sky. Somewhere down there is the schoolyard.
I have a fountain pen now but the teacher gives us a pen and pencil too. All books we use are in the class and he gives us new notebooks too. For each lesson a new notebook. Everything stays in the classroom. Underneath the desk is room for some books and a pencil case. There's a hole in the desk for an ink bottle but it's not used. If you can write well your school gives you a fountain pen. It is not easy to write with it so I practise a lot. I like the pen and once you can write with it it's easy. "The pen knows your hand and how you write," the teacher said.
Dad has a fountain pen too and a ballpoint. Both are in a case. Parker is written on it. Parker and his name. It's expensive. I am not sure if it makes you write better or neater. In my class, we all use the same pen but we do not write in the same way. Our letters, our handwriting is different.
August 23, 2021
"You are fat!"
It's the first time someone tells me I am fat. Am I? I don't know what to say. That girl... does she look different from me?
"You should be on a diet."
I think, think hard but I cannot remember anyone called me fat. My mother calls me all sorts of names but never fat. So now I am ugly, exactly like my dad, sick and fat too?
I see the teacher look at me on the schoolyard. The girl sees it too. She smirks and walks away with her friends giggling while they make fun of me.
"Am I fat," I dare to ask the housekeeper if she sits down at the kitchen table with me. She gives me tea and I can take two biscuits but I hesitate.
"Not to me, you can see for yourself if you use the scales."
The scales are inside my parent's bedroom and I am not allowed to go in there. I cannot sneak in because my mother will notice it. She can see my footsteps on the carpet. The long piles will tell her. If she vacuums they all stand in the same direction.
I cannot use the scales now but I will one day. That evil girl told me her weight. I will remember it and see who's the fattest of bought of us.
"Don't worry too much", the housekeeper says, " you are not fat but I think you are taller than most of the other girls in your class."
She shrugs and I think of what grandmother said who's tall too: if you they kick you at your ass you grow tall. She might be right, grandmother I mean. She's way taller than her mother and grandpa were. Perhaps they hit and kicked her too?
August 24, 2021
Saturday there is a birthday party. Bart asked me. He lives in the same street as Ellen. I am not sure why he asked me but I like to go.
My mother was in a good mood and said it was fine. She immediately pushed me into the car to buy a present. If it comes to the present she never cares about prices. I think she loves shopping that's why. I am not sure if Bart will like what she bought since he is different from me. He is very good at embroidering. I told my mom a d since she can do that too she chose something that isn't for boys or girls only.
After the presentation, she visited all the shops she likes and kept buying things for herself. More things to wipe off dust and to take care of. The shopkeeper was happy to see her. I think she is his best customer. Someone who never asks for the price. They believe she can spend without a limit and is rich.
She felt happy with it and I was happy she didn't hit me again. After the bread meal, she told me to take a bath and I dared to ask if I could use the scales?
She looked at me in surprise.
"Because I am fat", I whispered and didn't dare to look her in the face. I don't know if it was a smart thing to do because every word said to my mother she remember forever and will use against you.
She couldn't believe her ears and said I could use them after a bath. "No dirty feel in my bedroom you hear me," she yelled as I went upstairs to fill the bathtub.