Free Do Tampons Take Your Virginity?: A Catholic Girl's Memoir by Marie Simas Page A

related to us.
    A few months later, I finally had the strength to ask my father about it.
    “Why didn’t you say anything to Mario? Why did you keep taking me over there?” I cried.
    My father replied, “It would break up the family. It’s too embarrassing. You understand.”
    That was it. That was his answer.
    I told my Grandmother Amalia about it. She was incensed . That summer, Amalia went to a Portuguese festival and had the good luck to run into Mario. My grandmother let him have it.
    “You perverted old man! If you come near my granddaughter again, I’ll cut your God- damn nuts off!” Her voice went up higher and higher.
    “You filthy bastard! You disgusting piece of trash!” She yelled in front of everyone. Mario glanced around, frantic. How many people heard this crazy old woman? He tried to run away, but my grandmother chased him down the street, yelling obscenities in Portuguese.
    I was so proud of her.
    Years later, I discovered that Mario had been caught with juveniles a number of times, perhaps prostitutes. These rumors were whispered quietly within family circles. It was just gossip; I never heard the whole story. I guess that’s the reason why Father never doubted that Mario tried to assault me.
    I never forgot how my father refused to confront that piece of shit. We just never talked about it. It was another secret that got buried.
Catholic Grandma Rules
    I was diagnosed with hyperactivity disorder in 1981, which was pretty rare back then. These days, doctors prescribe Ritalin like Tic Tacs, but back in the seventies, it took a really crazy kid before pediatricians started talking about prescription drugs. My parents refused to give me psychostimulant drugs. So the pediatricians told my father to restrict my sugar intake. No sweets, no caffeine, no chocolate.
    No sugar... and I was an addict.
    Where do kids go when they can’t get candy at home? They go to Grandma’s house! My grandmother’s house was like a carnival. I got Jordan almonds, little anise candies that looked like jumping jacks, starlight mints, and butterscotch candies. Sometimes I would get black licorice. I never liked the butterscotch candies. They were “old people” candy.
    I guess when I’m sixty, I’ll be wearing an old housecoat with butterscotch candies stuffed into both pockets. A butterscotch candy wrapped in a handkerchief stuffed into a housecoat pocket is the true mark of a Catholic grandmother.
Rules from a Catholic Grandma
    1. How many tissues can you stuff into your pocket? Twenty? Thirty? The legal minimum is ten. Tissues are good for wiping noses, asses, and faces. You never know when the bathroom at the mall is going to be out of toilet paper. It’s better to come prepared.
    2. Have at least one pair of clean underwear in your purse. Your period could come anytime, anywhere. Also, you could get scared and piss or shit yourself. It would be a real shame to go to the emergency room with shitty underpants.
    3. If your waitress puts little jams and jellies in foil packets on your table, it is perfectly all right to stuff them all in your purse and take them home. The same is true for ketchup and mayonnaise packets and any “free” bread that is put on the table. If you are lucky enough to be eating at a buffet, bring along the biggest purse you own.
    4. Layer, layer, layer. Put on a bra, then a tank top, then an undershirt, then a shirt, then a housecoat, then a sweater. You won’t be hot, trust me. Okay, in the summer, you can skip the sweater. But the housecoat is not negotiable! Housecoats protect your “good clothes.”
    5. As soon as you get home from church, change completely out of your Sunday clothes and put on a housecoat. In fact, your church clothes should only be worn for an hour every week. This means you only have to wash your church clothes once or twice a year. You really shouldn’t wash them more often than that, because they’ll get ruined. You can’t wash wool or silk, so—just put it