Baggage Resurfaced

When I first started my blog, I decided to use it as a tool to revisit old baggage that I had been carrying along with me. (See April archive) I found it quite therapeutic. I found that as I blogged about damaging things that happened to me as a young boy and man, that I felt better. Well some baggage has resurfaced as of late and I would like to talk about it. This baggage resurfaced as I walked past the feminine hygiene department at Walmart last night. As most men know, walking through the "feminine" isle not a comfortable thing. You get nervous, clam up and don't say a word. I don't know if it is just because that is a subject that we don't like to talk about or we don't understand it, or after enduring the aftermath of a monthly emotional cycle, despise it and wish it would go away. I don't know why, and maybe I am alone, I get an uncomfortable feeling in that isle, and I really don't enjoy the subject. It's kind of like when I go shopping with my wife and she asks me to hold her purse. That's fine and all, but while she is trying on clothes, I am stuck there in a women's clothing store holding a purse. No matter how masculine I hold the purse(I prefer the football method), I am still a dude standing alone in a women's clothing store holding a purse. You get my drift, Its all uncomfortable. I don't think women realise how uncomfortable it is. As a man, I really don't like stopping by the store on the way home from work to pick up feminine products. There is nothing like running into one of your friends carring a 100 pack of gentle scented super absorbency. I grew up with 3 brothers and no sisters. I don't understand all of it. I don't want to understand it. I remember stealing Tampax from my mom as a little boy thinking they were bombs because of the string. My friends thought they were bombs too. I liked it better when they were bombs. Anyways back to the baggage. I remember when I was a boy, I had a sharp fillet knife that I was using to cut a box. As I made a hard cut, the knife slipped and cut my finger. The cut was deep, and began to bleed profusely. My sweet mother that was nearby came to my rescue. She ran to the end hall closet and pulled out the biggest band aid that I had ever seen. It was about 8" long and about 3 inches wide. It was white and the sticky side was on the outside. I had never seen a band aid like this. She took this band aid and wrapped it around my finger. It absorbed and stopped the bleeding almost immediately. I was pleased. So I continued cutting on my box. All was well, until my older brother got home with one of his friends. I told him about the cut and he looked at the band aid and began to laugh and call me pad boy. I remember in detail, my brother looking up to my mom and saying, why would you use that? and she said it was the best way to stop blood. My brother continued to tease me, so I got a little suspicious about this giant band aid, and started asking questions. Well my mom didn't want to go there and I never knew what it was for until about two years later. When I found out that it was really not a giant bandaid I was furious. In fact, I believe that was the first time in my life that I ever said the F word. I said it to myself but I said it out loud. No one heard me that day, but after dropping the F bomb, I vowed to never tell a soul about my giant band aid.
Well, there it is. I have broken my vow of silence to ease the pain.
I want to tell my mother that I forgive her for wrapping a giant band aid around my cut finger causing deep emotional scars that lasted much longer that the scars from the actual cut. I hope she will forgive me for saying the F word. I love you Mom.