Im slapping on some lipstick and a little extra rouge. I breath in deeply, trying to calm my nerves before I go to meet the judge, the jury and the executioner. She's not going to like my hair loose, so I tie it up, but then my double chin can be seen more clearly. So I remove the clip and drop it in the sink while I try and fix my hair to cover my flaws and my nervousness. She can't touch you any longer, I argue wih myself as i try to make sense of this fear which is bubbling like lava in my veins. She can't bring you down any longer and only you can change how she sees you try to convince myself. Only you can break the hold she has on you like poison ivy suffocating me of all my self-confidence and pride.
I remember her eyes scrutinizing me while I lived under her roof. She would turn away if I was looking nice to suddenly turn around to hiss obscenities and accuse me of trying to be a tart. She would grab my hair and smash my head against the wall in the hall just before I was ready to go out. Wrapping her hands round my neck she would attempt to strangle me while staring me in the eyes at the same time cursing, swearing at me for existing. Count to 10 I'd tell myself. Don't answer her back it will only make it worse and defending yourself would make it worse the next time round.
I've lost count of how many times I would have to compose myself before I walked out the house to go to college or meet some friends. The wind would cool down the slaps and my humiliation. While the tears would be streaming down my face impossible to stop no matter how hard I attempted to fight them back. The lump of anger, anxiety, helpless in my throat would swell making it difficult to breath. The emptiness and feelings of worthlessness I experinced would remain long after her tantrums were over. When I returned in the evening I would tiptoe into her house. Like a terrified animal smelling the air, ears alert at the slightest sound least she should pounce on me once again to finish off her prey.
16 years later and those memories remain with me.
Ive finally fixed my hair and the mobile has rung at least 20 times and 8 incoming sms from her. I feel the tension rise and I start to find it difficult to breath. I break out in a sweat and my stomache has knotted itself together like a tight rubberband depleting me of air and energy.
We are supposed to be eating lunch together. The mobile rings again. To hell with this I think. grab my red sunglasses with the big silver heart on the corner and ut them on. One last look in the mirror to tell her - to convince me that I refuse to be bullied.
My sparkely glasses remind me of my childhood love for music, dance and all things glittery. It reminds me of the day I was 7 years old and I burst into the house in excitement. "Look what I can do" I said to her and my mother as I flung my satchel down on the floor as I started to drum on the table like my Pakistani classmate taught me. Suddenly I felt a hard slap across the side of my face. I stumbled, disorientated and tried to find my balance - my ear throbbing with pain. "Don't you ever play that music here again" she roared. I didn't understand. I have never understood her brutal punishments. Locking me in the cupboard for hours or beating me for trying to be just me. These red glasses are not me but they are saying I refuse to be broken ad bullied any longer.
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