Ladies, remember being young and awkward? With stretch marks and wonky boobs and a layer on downy hair all over your body? And this weird wisp of hair on the front of your head that almost seemed like a fringe, but more like the fringe of a baby which had been stolen from them and stuck to your forehead as they slept, and you could do nothing about it?
Yeah me too.
The worst thing about the four year ‘transition’ phase of the lady body was having to spend the weekends getting ‘it’ out in front of other teenage girls and their mums, in badly lit courtrooms of judgement known as ‘changing rooms.’
“OMG Macy, look at that girls stretch marks. I am so glad your body didn’t rapidly expand before your skin did, it would have brought such shame onto the family.”
My friends and I all pretended we were all in the Mark One changing rooms to try on boob tubes and halter necks, but really we were there for one thing, and for one thing only.
To sneak a peak at each others boobs, and check ours were normal in comparison.
And there was always one friend who had transitioned from ‘not a girl to not yet a woman’ exceptionally smoothly, but was so nonchalant about it that you didn’t notice until you were in the changing rooms, where you stood gawking at her Venus like body and stuttering, ‘but but but you’re so beautiful.’
Then you would buy nothing and go home and cry to your mum.
“But mum, she doesn’t even have back eczema! WHEN WILL IT STOP?” Continue reading “Skymall Magazine!”