By the time I turned 16, I figured that I was too old to be spanked. I spent most of that summer with my aunt, who lived on a farm out of state.
My parents told my aunt that she had full discretion to discipline me if I needed it. My aunt laid out a few ground rules that were not to be broken. Don’t break curfew and don’t swear. Both were punishable offences.
Before too long, however, I had both broken curfew and used bad language in her presence. She kind of bit her tongue the first few times and just sent me to my room with a warning.
She gave me the same warning five or six times, each time adding: “If this happens again I will spank you.” I paid no attention, except to say that I was too old to be spanked. “Nonsense,” she would always reply, “don’t push me.”
During my last week on the farm my aunt hosted a Tupperware party. I came in really late, and upon seeing about 20 women in the house exclaimed: “What the hell is going on around here?”
My aunt jumped up and told me to go to my room before she spanked me right there. Of course I told her I was too old to be spanked. That was the last straw. She walked into the kitchen very quickly and came back with a big, thick paddle.
She grabbed me by the arm, sat down on a kitchen chair, pulled me over her lap and gave me the paddling of my life – right in front of her Tupperware guests. It seemed like she spanked me for an hour – I guess it was actually more like two minutes – but walking to my room in front of all those ladies was the most embarrassing moment of my life.
I guess I wasn’t too old to be spanked after all!