Day 24. Slapped.

There are a few times in my life where I got slapped so hard I can still feel the sting.

Wexford, PA. I was 9 if I remember correctly. We were having a family dinner - a pretty fancy one - with my parents, me, my sister, and my grandparents on my mom's side. We called them Grandmom and Grandpop to keep from getting confused with my dad's parents - Granny and Gramps.

Dinner was going off without a hitch. I have no clue what we ate, but I do remember very clearly what I said at the table and what the consequences were.

"I love everyone at this table except for Grandmom." I blurted out, probably over some mashed potatoes.

There was a mix of horrified and stupefied stares and the room went dead silent.

I, of course, thought it was funny, so I said it again. Maybe even a couple more times. Then, I was excused from the table by my dad. A military man. Who could be really scary.

I busied myself clearing dishes and trying to stack them in the kitchen, but stuff was everywhere. There was no room.

"There's nowhere to put this stuff," I whined.

And then, it broke. You could literally hear my dad's patience pop. I had pushed him to the limit and was done for.

He chased me up the stairs, spanking me hard all the way to my room and not even the daffodils on my canopy bed could calm me down. I'd never seen him so mad and I never saw him that mad again. He poked his big sausage finger right in my chest and it hurt. I was so scared I started to pee my dress, which was no big deal because it was ugly, but I didn't want to pee on my daffodils.

I hid in the bathroom for a while - and if I had half a brain I would have locked the door and never come out. But I did. I'll never forget that day as long as I live. And it's not because my dad was mean. It's because I acted like a real asshole and told my Grandmom I didn't love her.

England. I was 11. My mom taught elementary school, so my sister and I normally beat her home. One day I had a few girlfriends over and we were smoking in the backyard. Suddenly, I heard a car pull up and I knew I was screwed. I ran into the house, grabbed a Pepsi and started chugging it - somehow thinking that would cover up the smell of a Marlboro? Of course it didn't. My mom took one whiff of me and slapped me across the face so hard I had her handprint there for about a week. My friends just slipped by behind me, out the front door to safety from this crazy lady. Boy, was she ever pissed. And she's tiny, too - 5'2", 105 pounds - so imagine the anger that propelled that hand. Oh well. It's not because my mom was mean. It's because I was stupid enough to smoke at home and get caught.

Slap #3. England. I was 11 or 12 and thought it was a hoot to borrow my sister's stuff. I'd take clothes, earrings, bracelets, makeup, pretty much anything I could get my hands on to be like her. One day I had on her purple plastic earrings. They were shaped like triangles and probably cost about a dollar. I was in my bedroom when she burst in and told me to take them off.

"Take em off, I'm serious." She said, and the look in her eye was wild. I knew I was playing with fire, but I was ready to fuel it. And but good.

"No!"

"Take them off. Now. And don't you dare throw them." God, she knew me well.

I reached up to my right ear, pulled off the back of the earring, took the earring out and replaced the back. Then I hauled my right hand back as far is it would go and chucked that earring with the force of a pro baseball pitcher. It whizzed by her face, I think, and then the rest was sort of a blur.

WHAP! Her hand made contact with my face and then she was on top of me, wrestling me on my bed and basically just beating my ass senseless.

It wasn't that my sister was mean. It's because I took her stuff without asking and then got obnoxious about returning it.

Those are the three slapping incidents I remember most vividly. I'm sure there are more, but only the best ones deserve fond recollection. I guess, along the way, I got some sense slapped into me after all.