Don't Judge Me: My Deadbeat Dad's Dying and I Don't Care

Jennette McCurdy's memoir title obviously inspired this title, so trigger warnings galore.

One Piece of My Lore

first thing’s first: i do not have a dad, or even a father.

the first day i met my paternal parent, he slapped me for calling my parents “guys” near the beauty aisle in a K-Mart. i was ten days shy of being six years old, and too excited to have my family reunited in the States (a very common immigrant dynamic and story), and i wanted to show my mother and paternal parent something cool i thought we should buy for our new apartment.

the slap came so sharply and swiftly against my cheek that by the time i was stricken, i was more shocked at being hit for the first time ever in my short life to feel the sting initially. but i definitely felt the sting as tears pricked my eyes and i looked to my mother in disbelief. the placating look on her face betrayed me, and the first chip of my childhood crumbled away.