When I was a teenager to young adult, I swore a lot. From a goody two shoes book worm in secondary school and junior college, my anatomy was changing, including but not limited to my growing penis. By National Service, I realised my penis was different from others. It was big and sturdy. I was worried when I saw my platoon mates penis-es in the army camp common bath and pee areas. Theirs were modest, but mine was obscene. They would call or insult me in hokkien expletives. Phrases like "Knnbccb, chow Duaki! Mai howlian lah" or "Knnbccb, Duaki, mai siao on can or not" or "Knnbccb, Duaki, mai sabo leh" were frequently thrown point-blank at my face. I soon learnt to give them back what they had dished on me, with equivalent and ultra gross expletives, laced and related to their mother, smelly, old and big. When I was out of NS and in university, I was out of control. Girls whom I seriously liked to have a relationship were avoiding me as if I was some hokkien barbarian from Yishun. Their mouths were agape in utter awe. They could not believe what they had just heard. "Did he just say what I think he said?", a sweet, demure, slim-waist but decent size boobs Singaporean girl whom I liked very much, would confide in my best (girl) friend who was a good friend of mine. It was then that I had my first clue that I might have a swearing problem. At home, my late father seemed to be fluctuating between shock and amusement w.r.t my (then) filthy mouth. He probably realised that I was growing to be a young adult and I supposed he was the same during his own NS days, under the even cruder platoon mates, section commanders, officers, CSMs and RSMs. On the other hand, my mother would be blushing, probably drowning in embarrassment during family gatherings with relatives. One fine day, during CNY eve dinner in a Chinese restaurant, I made a remark that made my late father upset. The waitress was serving us individually a big, juicy and deliciously looking abalone with spinich and I made a remark. "Eeee, this looks like a big fat brown Chow Chee Bye!". Upon hearing my wrong time wrong place wrong event statement, the waitress was in utter disbelief, my mother embarassed, and my younger brother giggling away like an idiot. Thankfully, we were in a private dining room and no one else heard my loudly spoken crude obscenity. I had thought that my joke would make everyone laughed. I was wrong. I could sense my late father's mood was changing from joyous to grim throughout the reunion dinner. Nevertheless, he probably felt that he didn't want to spoil a family dinner and he didn't reprimand me there and then. When we reached home, he told me to "report" to his study room. I sheepishly dragged myself into his immaculate book-laden "disciplinary office", knowing this time, I was going to be screwed for sure, in terms of 50% cut in weekly allowance. Hitting where it hurts most was how he disciplined me during my young adult days. Once in his "office", he was sitting in his comfortable swivel chair and me standing at senang-diri position, waiting like a NS recruit to be tekaned. He said : “Boy, I think you’ve developed a very bad habit”. I felt ashamed. He went on counselling me. He said that he wasn't against using expletives. He added that what he was against was my indiscriminate swearing which showed a lack of self-control and thoughtlessness. It disappointed him a lot. It sunk in me that indeed I had lost it. And with it, I had lost my ability to speak like a proper man. He continued :"Like it or not, people judge us for what we say. If we speak like the uncultured and uneducated, we appear like them to others". He ended by cutting 50% of my weekly allowance for 4 weeks (as expected). From that day onwards, I vowed to change. By the end of 4 weeks, I had no Starbucks, no McDonald's, no KFC, no young adult's "luxury" stuff. I vowed to change and I did a pretty good job of cleaning up my dirty and foul mouth. While it wasn’t exactly easy, I was surprised by how much I’ve learnt about myself and grew to be a better young adult. To sum up my rather long story, I just want to say I disappointed my late father when I was a young adult. I had an utter lack of discipline—and reasonable care—when it came to my choice of words.
Thank you Dad. I hope you are happy and well wherever you are now.
Thank you Dad. I hope you are happy and well wherever you are now.
