When I first got my new car in my senior year of high school, my dad gave me two rules; well they were more like promises.
1. If he saw “any boy” driving my car, he would sell it. No questions asked.
2. If he saw me driving and using my phone, he would take my phone.
Flash forward to my sophomore year of college, I was driving home one day from campus and I stop at a red light.
I pull out my phone to check my text messages.
A police car pulls up next to me. I glance over. IT’S MY DAD.
I’m the oldest and the only girl, so I never know which way my dad is going to go with his punishments. He could be really lenient because I’m his only daughter, or he could try and make an example out of him for my brother.
Anyway, so we both drive home. Everything is fine for like 30 minutes. Then out of the blue – he says, “Give me your phone.”
I tried to argue. But at the end of the discussion, I had to give over my phone which was named… Bella.
Me being Bre, I sent an email to him the next day once I got to my work study.
I posted a picture of the email that I sent it. It came up in my Facebook Memories and since I can’t copy the note, I had to take a screenshot.