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In Brooklyn and in Manhattan we did free bbw video not eat our meals at the same table. In both boroughs, I ate in the kitchen. Mama took her plate into the living room and curled up in a chair free bbw video and ate. She said she couldn't stand to watch me eat; it made her sick to her stomach. Weekday afternoons I free bbw video practiced piano lessons and played outside, but if Mama was gone, as she sometimes was, in the evenings, or on those Sundays, I felt lonesome and restless. I did not feel frightened. I was more afraid when she was home than when she was not home. When she was home every squeak of a kitchen cabinet door or swish of Kleenex pulled from its box was a scream. I'd feel sick to my stomach after a real good beating. I felt shaky and frightened and weak and newly born into an uglier world than it had seemed before the beating started. The word lurid describes how I felt the world looked, lurid like bruises that are described as lurid. For Mama, the beatings seemed to clear the air, like lightning storms on Midwestern summer afternoons.
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