Continued from the previous post ...

An entire generation of women were set up! My entire generation. We who now know ourselves as Boomers, this powerful generation of women that ooze confidence, that often take the world by storm, that rise like fresh cream to the top of many a corporate vat ... that as of last week owns the Speakership of the House of Representatives ... we began our adult lives as sitting ducks, plastered to the center of the bull's eye where anyone could take a pot-shot at us that would stick, and stick and stick.

Miniskirts were the rage, psychedelic music and enhancers were everywhere, a huge population of boys had gone away and come back grownup boys, hormones raged, and the messages going out to the youth of America were all about free love and wide-ranging passions.

The world was changing fast, but one thing wasn't.

Condoms may have been available for boys, but I wasn't a boy, and my boyfriend had either no interest or no access ... I don't recall getting a straight answer from him on which case it was. I don't recall feeling that I had any say, anyway.

Sex itself was a big let down. (Mom had been right about that.) How an experience could be hyped beyond all comprehension, then amount to so little was a shock. Not only did the act do nothing to alleviate my needs or assuage my desire ... in fact, it made both even more pressing ... it was messy. My boyfriend, however, seemed to think the world of it, so being raised to oblige, I did.

Girl power was a long way in the future. In 1968, we didn't have any. Not only could we not protect ourselves against pregnancy, we couldn't terminate one, either ... well, not legally and not safely. Heck! We didn't even have the right to demand that sex be as much fun for us as it was for the sperm-loaded boys who were definitely having THEIR way with us.

Girls died of botched abortions, and countless numbers suffered permanent damage from mangled attempts to abort. Stories of coat hangers and knitting needles abounded at the time, so it was only the completely horrified who went down that path.

The rest of us faced our fate.

"You made your bed, you lie in it," was an oft-repeated phrase. And we bought it!

We bought it!

This is the part that is killing me today. In 2006 I read this book and finally get it.

Now, I've always considered myself to be fairly introspective. I've closely examined my innermost thoughts and feelings and have dealt with a range of issues from my hectic childhood. I've been in therapy. I've checked out my motivations for everything from moving and marrying to adopting and writing. I've sorted through my emotions about abandonment and authority. I've faced my deep-seated fears. I've worked through relationships with parents and siblings.

And somehow I completely missed how ragingly pissed off I have been for thirty-seven years.

Continued ...