Aaron Peters was the first boy I’d ever kissed.
It’s June and I’m 13 years old. And I had been practicing in the mirror since I was seven.
Except, it had never crossed my mind that my breasts would somehow be involved.
And I mean, my breasts were the last things I even thought about honestly…which is why I didn’t actually take Timothy seriously.
Only Timothy Boyd spent every waking hour, at 10am in Mr Roger’s class, absolutely focused on my chest.
“It’s like you have no cups,” he would say.Â
Except he would say this with his eyes obsessing over my breasts…
And then at my legs and would take his hands and rub it on himself.
”Oh, Bella…”
“Your mother’s a whore who fucked a pastor,” I said to him.
And of course, his mother showed up to school, that afternoon to talk to me about what it means to be a “born again” Christian.
“My God, you’re so young but we shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Say things like what?” I said to her.
“Do you own a Bible?” She asked me.
“Yes,“ I told her.
Except, honestly right now I feel I have to point out that everything I’m about to write here is true.
Everything.
“I want you to keep it, and put it in your drawer,” she said.
And then she went to the door and closed it.
She took my hands and placed it in hers.
And then she smiled,
“There are things a woman does that has nothing and everything to do with God. I want you to remember that,” she said.
I nodded.
And then she left.
Until next time.
“I want to get down on my knees and start pleasing Jesus. I want to feel his salvation all over my face.” —- Cartman (South Park)
