the summer was a hard one-but l fit back into the mold fairly easily . Sophomore year would be better she said .
It wasn't. Sophomore year was the critical cut against my mother giving away her prize my vriginity of. It's a very funny story in a lot
of ways. Though it was not as calcuating as all this a coldly logical bit of my mind was at work
somewhere. My counterpart turned out to be foreign not exceptic
intelligent ( I had to feel superior) someone whose tastes were very unlike mine ( I attributed it to cultural differences)
and someone with whom I would eventually break up. Since pregnancy would probably tear our house asunder, I wemt on the pii before ever having intercourse a move l found w ironically calcuating at the time. Snice the gynecologist was on rhe same floor as the psychiatric social worker I'd seen and was a disapproving older woman, I was terrified that she would come to take me away and a tug of war would follow between the two doctors.