Chapter Six - Brenda

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My journey to work the next day is a dreamy kind of drive, I have my head filled with all the wondrous things me and my husband got up to last night. You'd think he would be bored of me and my body by now, but no, he showed me just how much he still loves me and my curviness. Those moments are rare, with three kids sucking the very energy out of you on a daily basis, but I have to say, Simon is the most considerate and exquisite lover, he always has been, ever since the day I met him.

I was shunned by my family because I was dating a white man, they hated it. They made their feelings perfectly clear to both of us, then they said I had to choose. Simon or them. Well, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who I chose. The day we got married, the church was filled with Simon's family, there were very few of mine there. I was okay with that though, I knew I was marrying the man of my dreams, so I didn't worry that I didn't get to share it with the most important people in my life, they're not important anymore. The only person who didn't disown me was my sister, she is incredibly supportive and understanding, and she loves Simon, as if he was her brother. Simon and his family have shown me nothing but love and support, right from day one. They welcomed me into their lives, even with a different colour skin; they didn't even acknowledge the fact that I'm black. It's not always the case, though, for some reason the colour of my skin angers people, they get nasty and can say some really horrible things. Why does the colour of my skin upset people? It's the same for my children; being mixed race, they're seen as 'different', especially by other children. It wasn't so bad when the older two were in infant school, they never experienced another person's cruel tongue, but now they're both in the junior school things have changed. I've had to visit the Head teacher on a few occasions; discussing the colour of someone's skin is just downright pathetic. But having to report to the school that my children are victims of racism is just wrong. It's so unbelievable how vicious children can be, but I always say that they learn their behaviour from their parents. Whether that's a true statement, or not, parents have an obligation to teach their children to be kind in an unforgiving world. At this moment in time, though, my children are happy and content with their school life, and thankfully the racial slurs seem to have stopped. I had to put my faith in the school and the head teacher; they have worked really hard to stop it.

I'm so lucky in other aspects of my life, especially when I look at the three most amazing girlfriends anyone could have. Clarissa is struggling to find the man of her dreams, Carla is humping the whole of Berkshire and Davina is with a boy who doesn't appreciate her. My life is perfect in comparison, although they would probably hate me for saying that and totally disagree too. They love their lives and I shouldn't judge them, I don't, but when I look at them, then back at myself, I realise that I am the luckiest woman alive. My family is happy and healthy, we are comfortably well off, as Simon is in a well paid job and we have a lovely home. It's a bit messy though, because trying to clean up after three kids can be a nightmare, but it's clean and it's all ours. I don't need to work; I do it because I love it. It would drive me insane being a stay at home mum, all my kids are in school anyway, so what is there for me to do, stuck at home all day. Most women I talk to at the school gates agree with me when I say that there is only so much housework a person can do in one day, before it gets too much.

I dropped the kids off at Simon's dad's place last night at 8pm, then I flew back home, breaking every speed limit. When I walked in the house, a bath had been run with rose petals floating on top of the hot water and the scent that filled the air of the bathroom was a sensual smell of jasmine. We bathed together, although with his chubby butt and my huge hips there wasn't much room for any randy antics. Half an hour of bathing and massaging in the bath, then turned into an hour of amazing love making. He cried, I cried, it felt like all our emotions spilled out of us when we both released in our orgasms. Our love for each other and all our hard work; building a home, raising children, working full time and just being so busy all erupted when we came together. It was a powerful moment. We held each other and enjoyed the silence. No children, no TV blaring some God awful programme on the Nickelodeon channel, no fighting, arguing and screaming. It was sheer bliss.

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