Inspired by one of her pals who recently liberated herself from the diaper, Nugget made the request to put on underwear.
She’s adorably delicious, but I can’t wait to get as far away from her bodily waste as possible.
We granted her wish to wear underwear and she proudly pranced (As a feminist, I don’t use that word lightly to describe my daughter) around our house, frequently asking, “Wanna see my underwear?” A pause would invoke a more aggressive sales pitch: “They’re purple,” she would add.
As she pointed out the details of the design on her underwear, her innocence and vulnerability almost hurt to witness. My mind wandered again to Penn State and to my own history.
In a lot of ways, there’s nothing shocking about how the perpetrator was able to do what he did. It’s classic. Charming perpetrator places himself in a position to gain access to children. He impresses the community, the families, and, most sadistically, the children who looked up to him.
The person who sexually abused me for 2 years was my teacher. In my case, the perpetrator was a woman.
She was the most popular teacher. She was hip, cute, and fun. She was married to a handsome guy and she knew the words to the most popular songs, which endeared her to the students.
Healer Lady described her as “shiny,” and that is a spot-on description. She was shiny and everybody wanted to be next to her.