I'm looking for some editing/proofing help. I can't pay a whole lot, but we can talk about what seems fair to both of us. I'd bake you cookies as well, so at least you have something nummy to eat while proofing.

Profile addie is good.

As the twig is bent, so will it grow

Mother glares at me. "I taught you better than this."

Definitions of "better" differ. I stay silent.

She looks at the birth control pills she found in my dresser drawer. "I want you to stop this."

"You'd rather I was pregnant?"

"I didn't teach you to act like this!"

"Taking responsibility for my own actions? Yes, Mother, you did."

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

She would lose it, for no reason at all. The last time was over a pair of pants. Screaming, swearing, cursing, accusing, hitting. She could be the very definition of irrational. “Fucking psycho! You are insane.” I screamed back at her.

And then, I lost it. Searing pain in my head. Hormones running. Medication doing the opposite of what it was supposed to do. I was the very definition of irrational. Screaming, swearing, cursing, accusing. “Insane. You. Are. Insane.” Screaming back at me.

I raised my hand.

And became my mother.

They want us to be like them then are horrified when we are.

I see a trend forming here....

Allyson, check your profile email. Insent.

Have to admit, when that happened, I was just as horrified.

I'm consciously trying to find the least angsty interpretations of things, because I'm tired of my own angst.

Hmmm

Happy as a pig in mud

Spring. Plowed field. My little legs can't quite clear the puddles, and I know I'm going to get yelled at for my dirty shoes.

Long-legged Linda nudges me just right and I go down. I stare at her, horrified and betrayed.

"It's just dirt," she grins. (Ten years from now dirt will be anathema.)

I blink, she gives me her hand, I tug.

Mother yells at us both, but she's snickering as she gets the camera before she gets the hose.

I went to the fabric store and chose a beautiful ivory moiré, ivory chiffon, and pearl beading. For hours, I slaved over this dress. It had to be perfect for my first dance at college. It was the epitome of 90’s fashion. Sweetheart neckline, straight skirt, scarf that trailed down my back.

I put it on to walk across the quad and show my friend. Quickly, so no one would see it.

I got up to her room, breathless, and sat down. An awful tugging at the back and a heartbreaking sound.

As ye sow, so shall ye reap.

t groans

(sorry, sorry. Had to.)