In the Beginning

My biological father, a man that deserves little respect (if any at all) was not married to my mother, but they still decided to have a child.  That child was obviously me.  Well I was due in mid February and was born via C-section on March 12.  I was ass first, my mother says that “I was showing my ass before I was born and I have been showing how big an ass I can be ever since,” but that is okay, I am not much of a fan of her either.  Back to the topic, my father, whom we will call Earl, was very abusive to my mother and I, while I was a little tike, he on one occasion picked my mother up and threw her into the floor headfirst.  Earl was too lazy to get a job, so my mother was then forced to work to support the family.  He would not load the dishwasher, clean anything, or even feed his child.  When my mother would come home I was always still in my pajamas and I was starving because, as he said, “He never told me he was hungry,” so most days I would not be fed until late in the afternoon, once my mother came home.  This went on until I was about 18 months old, and my mother was able to divorce him. He still had visitation rights.  He was not barred from his son in any way.  Yet Earl has never contacted me, or my mother, by letter or even phone we have had the same home phone number since then.  My mother met my stepfather, who I call “Dad”, when I was about two and married him when I was about 10.  He adopted me later on and that is where I stand now.