Tiffany: “I’ll try. I’ll try to comb my hair.”Grandma: “Come here, I’ll comb your hair. You are
not ugly. Your mom is just tired. She’s bad when she’s
tired.”ͳey would make excuses for her, but they didn’t need
to, ’cause I loved her. As bad as she was to me, I still
couldn’t help but love her.
ͳen she started beating me. By the time I was nine, she
got her motor skills back. She couldn’t get all her words out,
so she’d just punch me. Just full on. Because of her, I can
take a punch like nobody’s business.
I feel like I’m so strong in the chest area, mainly from her
punches. I have always thought that’s why my titties never
grew. My sisters, all of them got titties. She punched mine
down. Every day, I knew I was getting punched in the chest,
slapped in the back of the head.
She liked to whip me with the bath brush, that you wash
your back with. ͳat’s why I don’t have one in my house
now, because she liked to beat my ass with that wooden
thing. She liked to get you right out of the tub, too. Soon as
you got out:
Mom: “Didn’t I tell you to wash the dishes?”Tiffany: “I did wash the dishes.”Mom: “No, you didn’t. You didn’t wash nothing.”