Oh, the unrelenting horror that was 7th grade.
Everything was an embarrassment.
The zits springing up on my face and back.
The fact that I didn’t have enough of a bust line to fill a bra.
The shopping trip with my 36C mother to buy my first bra(lette).
The strap that then appeared through the fabric of my shirt, a target for hormonal boys to snap.
Not having a period.
Having a period.
Not dancing at the school dance.
Dancing at the school dance.
The upshot is, I was embarrassed to be me.
[scs_alt]
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
