Goody Two-Shoes

I was a wimp, a “goody-two shoes,” and I seemed to want the world to know about it, especially my parents. 

For example, my sister had an annual tradition of having a group of friends over for a sleepover in our dining room.  On one such evening, all of the girls took a walk up the hill and I went with them.  Some boys met them up there and they took out some beer and started drinking.  I was very upset.  Mom and Dad are letting her have this party and this is how she says thank you?

I started crying and went down the hill to the house, marching right into my parents’ bedroom (where they were actually sleeping together, believe it or not). Maybe they felt they had to save face in front of Alice’s friends. They were both reading at the time.  I spilled the beans and Dad just kind of looked at me and laughed.

Mom told me that he did end up walking up there to see what was going on.

When Dad and I talked about it later, he looked at me and said, “Yeah, you were being a real wimp that night.”

 
I think Dad would have liked me better if I had done drugs, or been a teenage drinker.  Maybe he just wanted me to loosen up.  I guess he felt like a little horseplay never hurt anyone. He should know; he partook in enough of it.  But that was him. Excuse me for wanting to be a good girl. 

During those parties, all of us girls would all lie on the dining room floor and talk until all hours of the night.  On one particular evening, each girl had to fess up about what boys they had been with and how far they had gone with them.  One girl rattled off quite a long list of boys she had had sex with. The dining room was underneath Mom and Dad’s bedroom so I’m sure they were up all night.  Some of the girls got on one girl’s case for never having sex.  So what? She wanted to wait until she was married. She was a girl after my own heart.  One girl told me her father was a pastor and had been molesting her since she was little.

My sister was more popular than me. Being clean and clinging to my virginity was no way to make friends in public school.  It just didn’t work.  Combine that with my parents being from out of town, having money that was possibly stolen, plus an alcoholic mother ― I would have been better off if I’d had cooties.  I guess I wasn’t willing to pay the price it was going to cost me to be popular.  So, I remained a goodie two-shoes.

The bottom line was that I was a nerd and was doing none of the naughty things.  I was listening to Donny Osmond, the Bee Gees, Barry Manilow, the Bay City Rollers, Kiss, and later Pink Floyd and Peter Frampton.  I was also talking to my one friend Betty on the phone and eating constantly. 

Back then, I was waiting for Donny Osmond to appear and carry me away on his noble Mormon steed and I was going to be ready, darn it!  I was going to be a virgin.  I wasn’t going to smoke or drink or curse. I never really latched onto the Mormon thing though. I have always been proud of my Quaker heritage and feel comfortable there. It’s me.  It’s who I am. 

I never stopped cursing, and I do drink.  I didn’t wait until marriage to have sex either, unfortunately. I wish I had.  My first experience was completely lame.  What a letdown.  That’s another chapter though.  I guess the only thing I was successful in was not smoking, although Alex did convince me to try one puff of a clove cigarette after we were married.  I took one puff but didn’t inhale.  (Really!)

I guess I flunked Mormonism.  Sorry Donny. No spirit babies for me apparently.

I was the goody two-shoes, determined to be perfect so everyone would love me, all the problems would be solved, and life would be beautiful. I was a good girl, whether my father liked it or not.

At the time, I told on my sister I felt like I was saving the world and doing the right thing.  After my father told me what a wimp I was, I just felt ashamed.

What I know now is summed up in the following positive affirmations:

• I am only responsible for myself.
• What other people think of me is none of my business.
• I am worthy of love just because I exist
• It’s okay to make mistakes every day.
• I make mistakes, I’m not a mistake.