The Oat Project

<p>When I told my mom friends that being a preacher’s daughter meant no movies dances or alcohol and being out of control was a root of sin they insisted I get drunk at a party they would plan. I did not agree but said yes. I was the mother of three and the wife of a terrific fellow. <em>What happiness or self-knowledge do I lack?</em> But considering their reactions widened cracks that had begun to appear in the life I had carefully cultivated to be okay with myself to handle panic attacks and to manage fear. Then Ellery asked “What else have you not done Jene'? Have you smoked weed?”<br />“No!” I said horrified. “It’s a drug!”<br />“Skinny dipped?” asked Beryl.<br />“This body? Naked? In public? No.” My pre-three-kids body was a distant memory. “Ever watched porn?” asked Sarah.<br />“No! I’m married! I mean I have sex.” That last part came out more like a question than a statement.<br />“Had role-play sex?” asked Beryl.<br />“You mean like dressing up?” My mind stopped in shock.<br />“Yes” she said in her matter-of-fact voice. “Like Schoolgirl versus Godzilla.”<br />I couldn’t help but giggle. “No definitely not.” My eyes widened. “Wait have you?”<br />As the scope of my inexperience grew so did their incredulousness. My curiosity ballooned into wanting to have a few “normal” experiences so we made a list of things I “should” have done already that they wanted to do with me. Little did I know it would lead to a summer of experimentation in conservative Colorado Springs; debauchery vice and completely naked bodies doing things I’d been taught lead straight to hell including getting rip-roaring drunk. I was scared spitless.</p>