First experiences

I went to visit my aunt the other day. While we were all sitting around gabbing about this and that she all of a sudden asked me this question, "You have never smoked have you?"

"Nope" I responded.

I guess why she asked me that was because both of my parents are chain smokers. From my understanding this should have drastically increased our (my sister and I) chances of smoking. Neither of use have ever smoked, and I highly doubt that either of us will.

The sound of my father "hacking up" in the morning is enough to discourage anyone from starting that nasty habit. I would hate to take a peak at his lungs. He started smoking when he was like seven years old, and he will turn sixty in a few months.

When I say that we have never smoked, this does not actually mean that we have not tried it. We just never took up the habit. When I was less than ten years old, not actually sure of the correct age, we found this abandoned purple (yes purple) van in the woods near our house. My sister and I were not the only ones to find it, many of the other children in the neighborhood found it as well. This was like our little hangout. I don't know who decided to start experimenting with smoking first, but I remember that it was one of my dad's packs of cigarettes that we tried. Lucky for us my dad smoked Camel nonfiltered (probably why we never started, disgusting). If we would have started with a filtered cigarette maybe it would not have been so bad. Anyways, it didn't take us long to realize that there was absolutely nothing exciting about smoking cigarettes.

This van was also our first encounter with "dirty magazines." I have no clue where those came from, but all the kids were checking it out. I can only imagine the expression on my face when I saw my first male genitalia. I probably thought that was disgusting too. All I can remember about this magazine was actually seeing it, I remember nothing else about it. I was probably in such a state of shock that I've blocked it out of my memory bank completely.

The only time I remember my parents actually talking to me about sex was when my sister got pregnant around the age of fifteen. She ended up having a miscarriage and my father had a "talk" with me in the hospital waitingroom. He said, "she what you girls need to do is keep your legs open....oops, I mean closed." hehehe.