Disturbing Memory #2

If you missed Disturbing Memory #1, be checking it:


It’s a jungle out there man – heaps of sneaky traps making you look like a fucking idiot, giving the world many opportunities to mock you, ridicule you, point at you.  What more, there are cunning clowns who exist playing innocent to your face always waiting in the wings to sell your arse out, making you the joke.  I know a group of people like this – they’re called My Fucking Family.  No, My Fucking Family isn’t the name of some nut-case quirky comedy act or performing circus group (well at least not intentionally), they are literally My Fucking Family.  People I am related to (well at least not intentionally).     

It was a stinking hot summer and I was 5 (picture me now but with smaller hands & feet but same height).  We had these public pools near our house and EVERYONE from the area went there – families that lived on our street, kids who went to my school, teenagers from the local high school, drug dealers who dropped out of the local high school, business owners in the suburb, crims who robbed the business owners in the suburb etc.  Mum was still at work and so it was up to dad to take me.  But he faced a Bic Pob-Blum (Big Problem) – he didn’t know where mum kept my swim suit.  So he patiently went through the drawers in my room to look for them knowing wisely he would eventually come across what I needed.  BullShit– this never happened, instead he just grabbed a tea towel from the kitchen (presumably he also didn’t know where mum kept the bath towels) & we jumped into the car & headed to the pools – yes, the PUBLIC pools where I was forced to walk around in front of the entire population of our hood in my Cabbage Patch Kid undies and nothing on top – carrying a frayed & stained kitchen tea towel looking like some kind of child slave forced to work back-burning bamboo crops in peasant China.  I learnt the meaning of humiliation that day people.  And the crowd was not kind.   

But let’s break it down more: this was the 80’s in Australia, fewer Asian migrant families in the area than now.  So I already copped a big daily serving of ‘you ching-chong’ (fingers used to pull up eyes at the corners) shit at school & on the streets (Yo, if you’re reading this now & you were one of those redneck fucks, be watching your back son – my memory is deep & Facebook is one fucker of a big database).  Add to this my lego people style bowl/helmet haircut and the fact that my dad thought the best way for me to learn to swim was to just throw me into the deep end of the pool while yelling and clapping alongside the edge (you get put in jail for shit like that these days) and you get one fucking big Disturbing Situation turned Disturbing Memory.   

They say the best way to overcome your demons is to face them.  And that’s what I’ve done.  As I’ve grown into my adult years I’ve risen above and embraced this disturbing experience: I now walk around topless in my underwear every opportunity I get (visitors who ever came to the Elwood apartment know it’s true).  Can’t wait for ‘Casual Friday’ to be brought back to work.  And My Fucking Family have nobody to blame but themselves.  


  1. now I truly understand you! :o) xo I have sometimes thought you and I should go around saying ching chong ching chong ching ching chong chong to each other and see if ppl think we are wierd.


  2. Wow.
    Wow. That’s…
    I didn’t find that so much funny as harrowing. Perhaps it’s because I too have a traumatic early memory involving a primary school trip to the pool, a missing towel, becoming a highly stressed child and ends in me being nude in front of the entire female population of the school.
    I did that to myself though. It was not really thrust upon me.
    You can’t choose your family.


  3. I empathise totally but have to add that it’s still possible to be humiliated while fully clothed. I managed that successfully in my first year at Ipswich High School thanks to my regulation uniform. I’m a bit of a spaz anyway but the long skirt and black school shoes really just cemented the whole deal.


  4. Miss Empress, life is chock full of disturbing memories, some too embarrassing to share on a ‘first date’. Love your rebellious Elwood pad!


  5. Yes we all must face our demons, no matter how monsterous they seem, they will stomp us in the ground if we dont deal with them head on. I am proud of you for dealing with yours, regardless of the outcome. I HATE public pools, but LOVE Cabbage Patch Kids (they rule) that logo looks great there…thanks for sharing your stories with us.


    • Webmissy: if from recalling my trauma I can bring joy then I am pleased 🙂 And the worst thing is I don’t even think my underwear was even legit authentic CBK brand, I think they were some kind of shady unauthorised print run on a pair of plain cloth. Just like the knock off CBK doll I had – it didn’t have the trademark CBK tatt on its butt & it had no feet, just stumps. Corrupt. Exx


  6. 😦 @ stumps and faux CBK items, I still have one of my CBK dolls the one who cries real tears…that doll has been with me a long time (I wont say how long lol) and she has help me remember where i’ve came from, but i’ll never loose sight of where i’m going 😉


  7. Not sure how to say this but whenever I see you from now on all I’ll be able to think about is whether you still wear white cotton undies with a CBK logo printed on the crotch…


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