If I Had Been Born A Boy
Whenhe's home I can't bear to see him. His gray hair, washingmachine-eaten-dryer-shrunken clothes, his huge gold-rimmed glasses, and wrinklyeyebrows are all condescending and annoying to even glance at. The first wordsfrom his mouth are always, "You are sooo lazy, like a piiig." He holdsback the last part, then finishes, "like yoa mudder." At the mereutterance of those words in his Chinese accent, the anger and temper I haveinherited from him blaze open.
I have heard so many stories about the manwho worked his entire life. Fun was nonexistent, and those who did have thisunnecessary aspect to their lives were scrutinized for seeking it. Anythingpleasurable was painful. Skiing, a walk in the park, a trip to the mall or anyvacation gave him no sense of enjoyment.
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