I got in trouble because my knees were on show when I sat down at a cult meeting. I was told to put my coat over my legs.
When I was a teen and my father was a shining rising elder, before I could get in the car to go to meetings, he made me slowly turn all the way around so he could inspect my panty hose for runs. That made me a nervous wreck, because there was seldom money to buy me new ones. He always "needed" a new suit or new black leather shoes because he had a talk out of town.
Finding winter coats was always a project. The ones I liked weren't always "suitable" for field service. I had to get stuck with something long and ugly. Shoes had to be pre-approved my dad, then he would "give" my mom money and permission to buy them for me.
Good times growing up.
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