Adopted
When I was rather young and impressionable one of my much older and "wiser" cousins told me that my parents found me on the door step as an infant and had felt so sorry for the ugly little baby that no one wanted (and, in fact, they tried fruitlessly to give me away) that they decided to keep me and adopt me.
I burst into tears and ran into the living room to seek comfort from my parents that, no, in fact, I wasn't adopted. Now, let's pause and check the facts:
(1) I'm the only redhead in my family. Both of my parents are brunettes, as are all 4 of my siblings.
(2) My cousin is SIX YEARS older than I, she must know everything.
(3) I didn't really look like any of my siblings (could have a lot to do with the red hair...)
My parents, in stead of offering me the love and support that I needed, burst out laughing. As did my aunt. No denial. By that age I had long learned that lack of denial often means admitting. I was scarred for life.
fast-forward twenty-some-odd years. My mother has never denied my adoption, rather, she laughs every. time. the story comes up. Let's examine some new evidence, however:
(1) I have seen, and have in my possession, copies of my birth certificate indicating that I am, in fact, my parents' child.
(2) I look so similar to my older sister that we often get mistaken for twins.
(3) Black and white photos of me and Mumsy are pretty good evidence that I'm her child (it's harder to get mixed up by hair color and pigmentation).
(4) The cousin in question is as blond as the day is long. And an air head.
Yet, it still bothers me on some stupid level that she has never denied it.
Until tonight. That's right folks! Mumsy finally uttered those words that I've been waiting twenty years to hear: "No. You're not adopted. Unfortunately, you're all mine."
Predictably, I don't feel any different having her admit it (we all knew I wasn't adopted). The good news is: this is one less issue I'm going to have to work out with some shrink someday.
I burst into tears and ran into the living room to seek comfort from my parents that, no, in fact, I wasn't adopted. Now, let's pause and check the facts:
(1) I'm the only redhead in my family. Both of my parents are brunettes, as are all 4 of my siblings.
(2) My cousin is SIX YEARS older than I, she must know everything.
(3) I didn't really look like any of my siblings (could have a lot to do with the red hair...)
My parents, in stead of offering me the love and support that I needed, burst out laughing. As did my aunt. No denial. By that age I had long learned that lack of denial often means admitting. I was scarred for life.
fast-forward twenty-some-odd years. My mother has never denied my adoption, rather, she laughs every. time. the story comes up. Let's examine some new evidence, however:
(1) I have seen, and have in my possession, copies of my birth certificate indicating that I am, in fact, my parents' child.
(2) I look so similar to my older sister that we often get mistaken for twins.
(3) Black and white photos of me and Mumsy are pretty good evidence that I'm her child (it's harder to get mixed up by hair color and pigmentation).
(4) The cousin in question is as blond as the day is long. And an air head.
Yet, it still bothers me on some stupid level that she has never denied it.
Until tonight. That's right folks! Mumsy finally uttered those words that I've been waiting twenty years to hear: "No. You're not adopted. Unfortunately, you're all mine."
Predictably, I don't feel any different having her admit it (we all knew I wasn't adopted). The good news is: this is one less issue I'm going to have to work out with some shrink someday.
posted by granola girl at 11:54 pm
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