I read an entry by GGC recently about puberty, and that made all those fantastic memories come rushing back to me, so I thought I'd share.  If you don't want to hear about boobs and periods, you might want to move on about now.

*cough*Bubba*cough*

When I entered 8th grade, I was about 5'5", and weighed 94 pounds.  Ninety-four. I remember that number because I had stopped growing altogether and was 94 freaking skinny pounds for what seemed like FOR.EVER.  I bought size 12 pants.  TWELVE.  In kids.

I was little and scrawny. I had chicken legs and NO boobs. None. Not even a bump's worth.  The boy I liked called me "Bird" because my chest was as flat as a bird's.  I couldn't look at a redbreast robin without being jealous because at least she had pretty feathers there, the bitch.

I was terrified of bathing suits and tube tops. I didn't like wearing tank tops because helllooo!? I looked like a little boy.  And forget about even buying a training bra...I had nothing to train.

As a matter of fact, I went to the doctor one day to check out a mole I had on my back.  I remember it clearly : the doc told my stepmom, "for now, it's just fine...but it might bother her once she's starts wearing a bra."   Simple, yeah?  It may as well have been a dagger through my puberty-stricken heart.

Later, when my stepmom repeated the diagnosis to my father in Dillards, I freaked out, crossed my arms over my non-existent chest and squealed like a banshee, "THAT'S MY PROBLEM!!!!" and stormed through the mall like a boobless psychopath. No one knew what I was even talking about.  I assume they chalked it up to teen angst and put it way up on a shelf so they wouldn't have to ask me about it...because they never did.  Probably a good call on their part.

All my girlfriends at school had started their periods.  We were all 14, of course everyone had started by then.  Except the freakish bird girl.  My best friend kept asking me throughout the year "did you start yet? Do you need to borrow a tampon? Are you SURE you haven't started yet? What is wrong with you??"  

One day, after basketball practice, my best friend grabbed my purse and saw a stockpile of pads in there.  She squealed and whipped one of the pink-plastic-wrapped torture devices out and said in front of God and all the basketball team members, "YOU STARTED YOUR PERIOD!! YOU DID!! YOU'RE FINALLY ALL GROWN UP!!!!!!!!"  

Um. Kill me now, God. Thanks.

I hadn't started yet...I just carried them around in my stupid purse so I could feign stupid embarrassment when someone saw into my stupid purse and saw the stupid pad that I wasn't stupid using yet.

Stupid.

I snached the pad from her and smiled and shrugged all coy-like.  Then I rushed into the stall to pretend change my pad because my pretend period was pretending to get a little worse.  I even took the pad out of the wrapper so she'd never know the difference.  And I don't think she ever did.

The summer between 8th and 9th grades?  Yeah. I grew like a freaking rhino.

I started my period (yay for bleeding!) and got big boobs (yay for stretchmarks!) and got new skin (yay for blackheads!) and gained, like, 60 pounds (yay for a new fat ass!).  I kept growing and growing and growing.  And so did those damn boobs.  Every week, I'd look down and they were another size up. 

Fuck! 

I went from being petrified of no boobs to petrified of the big mounds of fat that had settled on my chest and that everyone had to freaking stare at.

The next year at school, the boys stopped calling me Bird.  They had a new-found respect for me and my grand chestal area. 

They called me Breasteses. 

As if having none wasn't bad enough. Thankyouverymuch, boys. Way to boost back up my already trampled self-esteem.

I've since overcome the whole 'Bird' thing.  I've gotten over the 'Breasteses' name-calling.  I can look back on my early teen years with a sense of pride and accomplishment. 

*twitch*

I can proudly say 'I survived unscathed!'

*twitchtwitch*

I can hold my breasts head up high and be proud to be the woman I am today.  And I couldn't have done it without you, high school boys.  So, thank you.  Thank you all.

*cleans gun*

*twitch*