When I was 16 I had a big perm and a neck brace.

The neck brace was because i had a procedure called 'mandibular setback,' which means they surgically broke my jaw and set it back because it was growing faster than my face. They wired my braces shut as the bones mended, and for a few weeks I had a neck brace so that I wouldn't reinjure my jaw.

There are pictures of me and my floppy perm and my neck brace, painting a house in Montesano.

At first I tried only liquid food, and that was gross. So then I tried liquified food, like a hamburger milkshake, etc. That was gross too. So then I just stopped eating. I would go for a day or two without eating, just because I kept forgetting. Sure, I lost a lot of weight.

My cousin teased me; she offered me peanuts, I said no. Are you sure? Yah, I'm sure. My jaw is wired shut. Oh.

My jaw was wired shut for something like eight weeks. By week two I already decided that my first meal would be Chicken McNuggets. People would ask me, and I'd tell them. What the first thing you're going to eat when they unwire you? Chicken McNuggets, I say. I could not wait. That's all I wanted.

This is why my dad is an asshole. After getting my jaw unwired, after weeks of liquid, he asked me what I wanted to eat.

I still fall for this trick. He still asks me where I want to eat, and I tell him, and then he takes us somewhere else. This is what makes me want to beat him to death. I am not exaggerating. Someday I might.

Of course, I said, Chicken McNuggets. Then he said "no, that's too tough for you." So he took us to eat pho, which I almost choked on. I tried to protest, but I let him talk me out of it. It's so typical. I don't want to fight, I try to be cool. Why don't I stand up for myself?

This story is just an illustration of a greater pattern of how my father does not allow anyone to have any satisfaction but himself.

After months of eating liquid food, I would have been happy with some Chicken McNuggets, which were less than three dollars at the time. And every time, I just put my bitter disapointment away, just save it for later.

My mom tells me to let it go. I'm not holding on, ma, it's nailed to me. If he didn't want me to resent him, he should have been nice to me. JUST ONCE.

It is such a relief to write these memories down. It's not as good as an apology, but I'll never get a real apology. He only apologizes when he wants something.

Not fair? I've been fair long enough.

So the next time he asks me what I want to eat, and then takes me somewhere else, there will be a violent shouting match. I don't give a rat's ass who gets embarassed. I am absolutey filled to capacity of resentment; a single drop more will cause it to spill over.