I went home and said goodbye to my mother. I know she was a whore and a crack addict but she was still my mother. Unlike most of the other women, she chose to keep me instead of getting an abortion. I only stayed home a few days. I decided to go with a couple of my new buddies and see their hometowns.I guess I didn't realize that not everyone had my kind of upbringing. I felt slighted when my new friends said goodbye to their families. We might all be born equal but we sure weren't raised equal. I never really had that real family balance.Our squad headed overseas where we were to be near some war zones but we were more like backups and replacements. It was a good three months before we saw any action.The Army ended up being my life. I spent the next twenty-five years overseas.I received a letter that my mom had died of an overdose two years after I had left. I had nothing to return to then. I went to my bunk and cried. She was my mother and gave me a chance at life. When I called. A ludicrous sight... Unableto move and exposed in my diaper, my booted feet resting on the foottray inches off the ground, my soft, hairless legs are bent at the kneesand splay out leaving my smooth crotch on display..."What a sight I make! I hate thinking about it! No wonder Nanny laughsand shakes her head in derision to watch my silly, daily antics tryingto capture the attention of some fantasized brave and stalwart person Iimagine is hiding in the garden, waiting to show herself, overpowerNanny, and rescue me. So each day I go through this unintentionallycomic routine---hoping against hope my would-be rescuer will be there---but I really know down deep it's dumb, no one's there, the rational partof me knows Nanny's my only audience as she laughs and shakes her headat my futile struggles. I wiggle and twist my torso about as best I canseated in my bonds, stamp my feet in frustration, and wave my hands andarms about in the air, my fingers twittering and fluttering impotentlyinside.
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