The Devils Pact Tales from the Best Buy Incident Obsession
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My Wonderful Obsession 1 free porn video
My Wonderful Obsession
Part 1: Beginnings
Last week I turned the big 'three-oh'. Oh, sure, I know what some of you
are thinking - I'm still just a kid. But after all I've been through, I
sure don't feel like one. The truth is, I feel like I've lived a full,
amazing life already, in just these three short decades. And for the
most part, it's been a blessed one - well, except for the part with
heartache and pain. I guess you could say I got by with a little help
from my friends (and my family)!
Now I'll tell you a little about my 'problem'.
I've always been way overly concerned with my appearance. I have this
obsessive 'need' to look my very best at all times, and it doesn't
matter if I'm all alone, with my family, or out in public around
strangers. Oh, and I'm a neat freak too. What's so bad about that, you
ask? Nothing much, I suppose - except that sometimes your quirks can get
you into a lot of trouble. Or, as in my case, they can even change the
entire course of your life!
I don't want to make it sound like I'm blaming my upbringing for who I
am today - far from it as you will see. But looking back, it was really
my mother who got me started down this path, and I have her to thank for
being there for me when I needed her the most. She was (and still is) a
great Mom - the best! As far back as I can remember, she's been an
attractive, neat and tidy woman who always looked after herself and did
her best to keep a clean, well-ordered house, despite having two sons
whom she was forced to raise as a single mother. It's safe to say that I
inherited most of who I am today from my Mom, and I'm definitely a
better and happier person for it.
Now before I go on with my long, drawn-out story, I need to share some
details of my background.
My Dad, Henry (Hank) Johnson, was in the Air Force from the late 60's to
the early 80's, stationed at Clark AFB in the Philippines from 1971 to
1978. While there, he met a very smart, attractive girl whose family
were cleaning contractors on the base, and you can probably guess what
happened. Isabel (my Mom) was herself the illegitimate daughter of a
U.S. serviceman named William Blacklock, who had been posted there
during the Korean War, and a local Filipina girl. While growing up I
never knew my grandfather, because he returned to the States before
Isabel was born and there was no further contact between him and my
grandmother, who got ill and passed away when their daughter Isabel was
only twelve. After that, Isabel went to live with her aunt and uncle who
ran the cleaning business.
When Dad got transferred back to the States he had a young, pretty wife
in tow, not unlike a few thousand other servicemen who couldn't resist
the charms of foreign girls. Especially the ones like Mom who treated
their men like gold, were very feminine, and always looked well put
together. Dad's new stateside posting was Wright Patterson in Dayton
Ohio, where the Air Force did a lot of experimental work.
Mom says they planned to have four kids (two boys and two girls), but
they only got two: my brother Philip, and three years later me,
Alexander. As the second child, I was supposed to be a girl in Mom's
scheme of things - she had even received some little girl's clothing as
gifts from other women on the base, after she told everyone she was
having a girl who she'd name Alexandra. So much for careful planning! So
I got the next best male name, Alexander, but Dad and Philip just called
me by the nickname 'Sandy'. Most of the time Mom did too, except for
when she was being serious with me - then she'd call me by my full name.
For some reason nobody ever called me 'Alex'.
As is often the case with children of mixed ethnicities, Mom and both of
us kids are healthy, reasonably intelligent and physically good looking
(sorry, I didn't want that to sound like bragging!). I suppose nature,
or perhaps God, intended all along that us humans should "mix it up"
more, but that's just my uneducated take on things, for what it's worth!
When I was barely a year old, Dad was tragically killed while test
flying a newly modified plane. Our young family would have been
completely devastated if not for a generous insurance claim, some moral
support from Dad's parents in Texas, and the military pension and death
benefits we received. Mom invested most of the insurance money rather
than try to live off it, and to make sure she could provide well for her
growing boys she started a house cleaning business about the time I
entered kindergarten. Eventually things got very busy so she hired a
couple of other women to do most of the cleaning for her, and Mom spent
more of her time on the business side of things. It must have been tough
juggling everything, since she didn't have any friends or extended
family of her own in the U.S., but she made sure her boys were well
looked after, even doted on. We didn't have to do without anything. For
instance, before Philip started school Mom moved us to a new house in a
nice Cincinnati suburb, in walking distance to all the schools we'd be
attending right through to high school. Our house was a tidy little two-
story colonial with three bedrooms, each with its own full bathroom. Mom
loved the big, well laid out kitchen, with its huge window letting her
keep an eye on her kids and their friends as they played in the back
yard. She also took us to Disney World, twice, and I have to agree it's
the happiest place on earth, at least to me and a few million other
people who enjoy good, clean fun.
Phil, who was named for my paternal grandpa, is the spitting image of
Dad. He's tall, blue-eyed, fair-haired, and athletic just like Dad was.
But I look more like Mom - dark eyes, dark hair, olive-toned skin,
taller than her but not nearly as tall as Phil, and ... athletic? - only
in my dreams! But they say I was quite cute as a child, and Mom must
have thought so too, because she would often dress me in the girls'
clothes she had kept 'just in case', and call me Alexandra. She took
lots of pictures of her little 'daughter'. Come to think of it, I must
have spent most of my toddler days in dresses because there aren't many
shots of me in pants! I distinctly remember Mom standing me in front of
a mirror, telling me how pretty I looked. Supposedly I often refused to
wear boy clothes, probably because of the praise I received when I was
in dresses. It's a good thing childhood beauty pageants weren't popular
in those days, or Mom might have entered me and who knows how
complicated my life would have become (it's been bad enough, as you will
soon see!).
As the years went by, it became more and more obvious that Phil and I
were cut from different pieces of cloth. Phil was very active and
popular, always coming and going with his friends from the school teams
he played on, hanging out with the popular girls, and leaving a mess
wherever he paused for a minute or more. His room was a disaster, and he
didn't seem to care much about his appearance either. Mom was always
bugging him in the nicest possible way to study and get his homework
done. I think she knew better than to harp about his room!
I, on the other hand, detested team sports but loved to run, walk, ride
my bike, and swim - things I could do on my own without anyone telling
me I was lousy at them. I had only one close friend: a curly-red-haired
tomboyish neighbor girl named Kathleen Thomas who I'd played with since
we moved into the neighborhood; and I was much more of a homebody than
Phil. I was Mom's little helper - assisting her with cooking, baking and
even cleanup. I learned to do my own ironing and laundry by the time I
was 11. And I could even do some basic sewing, like fixing buttons or
shortening pant legs. By then I was already getting fussy about being
clean and presentable. I'd spend a lot of time checking myself out in
the mirror, making sure my face was clean, hair in place and clothes
pressed and coordinated. My room looked well organized too. And I didn't
have to be reminded to get my school work done either. I know, I was a
disgusting goody-two-shoes!
Mom seemed to accept Phil's way of life without complaining too much,
though, maybe because her other son was so agreeable, and our house was
usually clean and tidy in spite of my brother. Anyway, it's cultural for
Filipina women to avoid criticizing their men and boys, and that
probably had a lot to do with her attitude, too. But one thing she
wouldn't put up with is her boys arguing or fighting. So we learned to
get along despite our differences, and our home was not only tidy, it
was also a happy one.
I did get out and about a lot - either on my own or with my friend
Kathleen. We'd often go riding bikes, or walking, or picnicking in one
of the local parks, and in the summer we'd hang out at the local
community pool, just by ourselves or with other kids we knew from
school. We also went to a lot of movies. One time Kath's parents bought
tickets for the stage musical "Cats" and I got invited along. I was
bowled over! After that experience, I asked Mom if I could take singing
lessons. She readily agreed, and I began studying with a well respected
voice teacher. My secret dream was to sing and act on stage! Mom was
very encouraging and supportive, as usual. Mrs. White, my voice teacher,
seemed to like me from the start. She told me she didn't get to teach
many boys and she thought I showed promise as a boy soprano, although
she warned me that shortly my voice would begin to change and I'd
probably lose my unique singing ability.
When I was 12, Mom started going out with a friend of one of her
clients. Don was nice enough I suppose, although I felt a little nervous
about the possibility of having a new Dad. They dated for almost two
years, and once in a while Mom would call late to say she wasn't able to
make it home, so she'd see Phil and me in the morning. One summer she
put us on a plane to Texas to stay with our paternal grandparents for a
month, while she took a vacation with Don. But Phil and I didn't click
too well with our relatives, who seemed a little odd and quite aloof, so
we spent a lot of time just watching TV, reading, or riding bikes around
their neighborhood. We were both very happy to get back home where
everything was familiar, and never went to stay in Texas again.
Then all at once it was over between Mom and Don - she explained to us
later that he wasn't overly interested in marriage, but he was happy to
receive the "benefits", as she put it, the meaning of which I didn't
clue into at the time. So she broke it off with him. After that
experience, Mom seemed to devote even more of herself to her home and us
boys.
A few weeks before my fourteenth birthday I got a horrible present - my
first zit. I was almost in tears when I saw it in the mirror, partly
because my messy brother Phil had bad acne and I couldn't imagine
letting my face get like that. I'd seen some guys who had permanent
pock-marks from acne, and I was morbidly afraid that would happen to me.
Mom's advice was to wash my face religiously, which I did, but soon
there was another zit, then another. I tried several different acne
creams over the next few weeks, but nothing worked. One day, I was over
at Kathleen's house and her Mom noticed my problem.
"Sandy, I see teenage-hood is catching up to you! The next thing to go
will be your high voice!"
That last comment didn't help, but I sucked it up and asked Mrs. Thomas
if she had any recommendations for my skin. She laughed, and declared
proudly that what had worked for her was going on the Pill.
"You mean birth control pills?" I asked nervously, surprised at her
candor.
"Yes, that's what I mean - if you're on the pill it helps a lot with
hormone imbalance, which is one thing that causes acne. Well, I don't
mean you, of course - I mean women."
"Oh, that's interesting ...." I mumbled, somewhat embarrassed.
"You'll have to find your own solution, Sandy. The trouble with acne is,
what works for one person doesn't work for the next. But for most kids
it's usually just a phase you have to go through."
Kathleen was listening to this exchange, and when I was leaving she took
me aside. Kath knew just about everything there was to know about me
(even my younger dress-up episode!) and we had huge empathy for each
other. We were definitely like the best girlfriends we often saw in the
movies and on TV.
"Sandy, why don't you ask your doctor if you can get some pills? It's
worth a try, and God knows you've tried everything else!"
"I don't know, Kath - there's no way he's going to give me a
prescription for birth-control pills. Even if I was a girl, I'm not old
enough!"
"Maybe your Mom can get you some. Just tell her you want to see if they
help."
"Okay, I'll ask her, but I won't hold my breath."
*****
That evening I was helping Mom clean up after dinner. "Mom, I have kind
of an unusual request."
"Yes, Alexander, what is it?"
"Well, it's about my zit problem - I heard that birth control pills will
clear it up. I've tried everything else and I'm getting kind of
desperate. Would you consider getting a prescription for me? They might
not work either, but I need to find out one way or another."
Mom looked at me strangely for a few seconds, then spoke. "Honey, I know
how much you hate your acne, but you shouldn't be putting things in your
body that don't belong there. What if you had some kind of bad reaction?
No, I'm afraid I can't go along with that. What I'll do instead is make
a doctor's appointment for you to see if there's something else he can
recommend."
"Okay, Mom, I guess I understand," I said a little dejectedly.
A few days later, Mom and I walked into the doctor's office. The
receptionist directed us to an examination room, and a few minutes later
Dr. Morris strode in. "Hello Mrs. Johnson, you're looking very well and
- Alexander? You're certainly looking a lot older than the last time I
saw you!"
"Hi Dr. Morris," I replied, wondering if his "a lot older" comment had
something to do with the condition of my skin.
"What seems to be the problem, young man?" he asked.
"Uh ... it's this." I pointed in the general direction of my face.
"I don't quite understand, is it something to do with your head?"
"It's these blemishes, these .... zits!" I declared, a little sheepishly.
Dr. Morris chuckled a little, and said, a little condescendingly I
thought, "Oh, is that all that's troubling you? Most of my other
patients should have your problems, Alexander. I wouldn't worry too
much, they'll clear up all on their own when they're ready to. How old
are you? Let me see ..." He glanced at my chart. "Just turned fourteen.
That's about when acne appears for many young people. At least ninety
percent will outgrow it by age eighteen or nineteen though. Are you
cleansing your face at least once a day?"
"Yes, usually twice a day. And I've tried all the creams in the
drugstore, but nothing seems to work."
"That's not unusual, Alexander. Most off the shelf acne products don't
really work that well anyway. I'm afraid there's not much else I can
recommend for you."
"Isn't there something stronger you can prescribe for me?" I pleaded,
hoping that he'd at least mention birth control pills as an option.
Mom added, "Sandy's very self-conscious about his looks. He's also
worried that he'll have permanent scars from his acne."
Dr. Morris seemed about to brush off that last plea, but he paused and
then said "Well, the only thing I'd be willing to consider prescribing
would be a steroidal cortisone preparation that I usually reserve for
more severe cases. I don't prescribe it very often, and I never do for
girls because it can interfere with hormone function. That's not
necessarily a problem for boys because they're already developing body
and facial hair and deeper voices, but it's still potentially
disruptive."
"You mean it causes you to get hairy?" I squeaked in my still pre-
pubescent voice. I didn't like that idea any more than the acne. And I
wondered what it might do to my singing voice.
"Oh, yes, it can certainly accelerate the onset of secondary male
characteristics, which is one reason I only prescribe it in severe
cases. If you're as concerned about your acne as you say you are, I'd be
willing to put you on a strictly limited program with this drug, then we
could evaluate how well it's working and whether you're having any
problems with it. But I have to tell you there aren't any guarantees.
Like other acne treatments, this one doesn't work for everyone. And if
it does work, you may have to stay on it for quite a long time,
otherwise your acne may return with a vengeance. That's one thing I
don't particularly like about it."
"I think Sandy would be willing to give it a try," said Mom, trying
maybe a little too hard to be supportive. But the idea was sounding less
and less appealing to me.
"Very well," said Dr. Morris as he took out his pen and scribbled on his
prescription pad. "This is a topical preparation. Make sure you follow
the directions on the tube to the letter, and please make another
appointment with me for, say, six or eight weeks from now. If you
experience anything unusual, like a bad skin reaction for instance, come
see me right away." Then he glanced at the clock and said, "I'm afraid
you'll have to excuse me, I'm running a little behind schedule today."
"Thank you so much, Doctor," said Mom. "I'm sure Sandy will be very
thankful to be rid of his zits once and for all!"
"Thanks, Dr. Morris," I added, not entirely convincingly.
As we walked out the door, Mom chuckled, "Dr. Morris is ALWAYS running
behind schedule - he tries to fit in too many patients!"
On the way home we stopped at the drugstore to get the prescription
filled. The pharmacist read the directions out loud to us. "Apply
sparingly twice daily to affected areas after thorough cleansing. Keep
away from eyes and mouth." Then she looked at me and said, "You should
use it in the morning and before going to bed." Mom thanked her and
paid, and we drove home.
"Mom, I'm a little nervous about using this stuff. Did you hear what the
doctor said about side effects?"
"Well, yes, but like he said you're a boy so they shouldn't make much
difference for you. Anyway, you told me how badly you wanted to get your
skin cleared up, and this might be your best option."
'But not my ONLY option,' I thought to myself.
Later that evening I was getting ready for bed, and after my usual face-
cleaning ritual I reluctantly picked up the tube, squeezed a little of
the cream onto my fingers and worked it into my face. Then I stared at
my reflection in the mirror for a few minutes. In spite of the zits and
the cream, I had to admit I still had a nice face. I mean, my nose was a
nice shape, my big round eyes were nice, my mouth and lips were nice and
full, and I even had a well-shaped, nice little chin. All topped off by
my nice dark hair, which I liked to keep on the long side. Other people
had told me I was nice looking too, and one of Mom's employees even
remarked that I looked so much like Mom that I should have been her
daughter, not her son! I remember taking that as a compliment, but I
blushed in embarrassment just the same. I'm sure my obsession with my
looks only got worse from all the positive reinforcement I received over
the years.
All of a sudden I had a major panic attack. What if the "steroidal
cortisone preparation" caused me to lose my good looks? What if the
"secondary male characteristics" included a square chin, a big nose, an
Adam's apple - or even a unibrow, not to mention hair all over my face
and body? I liked the way I was - my facial features, the smooth skin on
my arms, legs and back, even my clear high voice. So I grabbed my
washcloth and immediately removed all traces of the cream from my face.
Feeling a little better, I went to bed and tried to think of how to
explain to Mom that I wouldn't be using the prescription. I laid awake
thinking for at least an hour, then my mind was made up and I fell
happily asleep.
In the morning I washed my face again, and instead of putting on the
cream, I squeezed a little bit into a piece of tissue and flushed it
down the toilet. I repeated this every morning and evening for the next
week or so, and when Mom asked whether I was seeing any results I simply
said "Not yet, Mom." Okay, I know what you're thinking: no more mister
goody-two-shoes - so let's just say every teen needs to rebel against
something, and for me this was going to be it!
The next day I decided to head to the library to see if I could find
some information on birth control pills. There was actually a huge
amount of literature on the subject, and it didn't take me long to find
what I was looking for. The most common pill was known as a "combined
oral contraceptive", containing two female hormones called estrogen and
progestin. Women were supposed to take the Pill on a 28-day cycle, 21
days on and 7 days off. And there it was - the Pill was often
prescribed to treat acne and other skin problems.
A few weeks later, Mom and I were having breakfast together and she said
"I don't understand why you haven't had any improvement with your
prescription. You have been using it twice a day, haven't you?"
"Of course!" I lied. "Mom, Dr. Morris did say it wouldn't work for
everyone. It kinda looks like I'm one of the unlucky ones. What am I
going to do now?" I asked in my best dejected-sounding voice. "I'm even
getting zits on my back!"
"Well, we should probably go see Dr. Morris again and let him know it
didn't work," she mused. "Maybe he'll have something else to suggest, or
maybe he'll just tell you you're going to have to live with your acne
till it goes away on its own."
"Or maybe we could talk him into letting me try birth control pills?" I
suggested hopefully.
Mom didn't respond to that one, but instead got up and started cleaning
the breakfast dishes. "I need to be on the other side of town in a half-
hour, and I can't be late," she said in a low voice.
As I waved goodbye to Mom at the front door, I spotted Kathleen out for
a walk and ran to catch up to her. "Hi Kath," I called out, and she
stopped to wait. "Hi Sandy, how are you this morning?"
"Oh, not the best. I haven't been able to convince Mom about taking the
Pill."
"I thought you had a prescription cream you were trying."
"Well, yeah, but it's got too many side effects. I decided to quit using
it. Mom thinks I'm still on it though. I really want to try the Pill
instead."
"What if the Pill has its own side effects?" she asked. "Remember, boys
aren't supposed to be taking them."
"I think I could live with those side effects better than the other
ones," I replied truthfully. The idea of keeping my smooth, hair-free
skin didn't bother me in the least. In the articles I'd read at the
library there wasn't anything I could find on side effects for boys
specifically, so I guessed that no news was good news.
Mom wasn't home yet when I got back home, so I went up to my room to and
there on my desk was a small white paper bag containing a few round
plastic packets. There was also a letter in Mom's handwriting. It read:
"Alexander, I hope I'm doing the right thing but I'm going to let you
try these pills. I was taking them while I was dating Don, and when I
broke up with him I had just picked up another six months' supply. I
know how much you wanted to try taking these pills so here's your chance
to see if they work. But I think you shouldn't be using the cream at the
same time. Please take only one pill each day. See you tonight. Love,
Mom."
You could have knocked me over with a feather, I was so surprised. Mom
really did care about me! Without a moment's hesitation I opened one of
the packets and downed my first pill with a gulp of water. Almost
immediately another mini-panic attack hit me - this was my last chance.
What if it didn't work? I'd have to consider going back on the cream
with its awful side effects. I decided there and then to hedge my bets
and take two pills a day - one in the morning and one at night.
And that's exactly what I did.
To be continued ....
Nadine
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