Respect

So, I have this weird pet peeve: I absolutely hate it, HATE it, when people touch me with their feet. I don't know why, but the feeling of someone's foot on my body makes me want to throw up. There's something about the feeling of someone's foot on my skin or even my clothes that literally makes me gag. I also hate it when my own feet touch someone else.
The thing is, my mom knows this. She's done it many times, I've told her how I feel many times, and she's acknowledged it in the past. But for some reason she still does it. I'll explain:
I'm sitting on the couch with my brother, watching a show on my laptop. My mom comes and sits next to me, but is facing me. Her back is resting on the armrest, her feet are facing me. She starts talking to us, and asks me a question. While she asks me, she nudges the outside of my thigh with her foot to get my attention. My first reaction is to jerk my leg away, and I do (quite violently). I know she sees my jerk my leg away. While I'm looking at her, she asks me a second question (or asks me that first question a second time, I don't remember) and nudges me with her foot again. That time I pretty much lose it. "Don't do that!" She just kind of looks at me. "Why do you do that?" I can tell she's getting mad now, but I have to say this. "I've told you a million times that I don't like that!" She just looks at me at that point, and mutters, "Forget it," and walks off to the kitchen. A little later, dad calls me to the living room. It seems she has "told on me" to my dad. He asks why I yelled at mom. I explained the situation. Then he says something totally off-topic: "You don't understand what we've done for you, all we've done for you..." I cut him off, "I understand that, but that has nothing to do with what happened." Dad starts again, "No, you don't understand. We've done so much for you for 18 years..." I reply, "Yes, I understand that, but that has nothing to do with what happened. She knows I don't like people's feet on me." I turned to mom who is in the kitchen, "I'm sorry I yelled at you, mom, but you know I don't like that." She doesn't even look at me. Dad tells me to apologize (yes, after I just did) and give her a hug. I go over to her, apologize again, and she still doesn't even look at me. At this point a hug is either too fake or too hard for me to do. I tell my dad, "She doesn't care that I'm sorry," and go up to my room and I've been studying bio/ thinking about it since. What's worse, I've been in my room almost all night, and nobody (not even my brother?) came in to say goodnight.

I hate these days.

I don't want to come back home this weekend; not if my own parents don't respect me. Honestly though, the way my dad was speaking to/ at me, I think he may have secretly agreed with me because of how he paused in between his sentences. I think he just made me apologize to get the "fight" over with. Whatever.