So I’ve recently discovered I’m actually a thirteen year old girl. You may scoff, but I have evidence.
- My pubes are growing in – Sadly, they seem to be coming in fuller than the hair on my sad little patchy head. They are also straight. A disturbing sight to find between your legs, like a troll doll trapped there. I’ve got a ‘stache making a comeback and the legs and pits now have to be shaved. Should you really have to worry about plucking, shaving, and waxing before you’ve even had a hair cut?
- I’m getting zits – The grease is back, baby. The chemo drugs left me so devoid of moisture and with such paper thin skin, zits never had a chance to form. I never thought that I’d be so excited to see those white headed beacons of grease filled health! Thanks goodness for Burt’s Bees Blemish Stick. I’ve been through about three of those in the past month.
- Bathing is necessary – Remember when you were a kid and you could go for at least a week without bathing? Somehow you didn’t get really stinky unless you wallowed in manure or rotten eggs. Your hair didn’t get greasy, it just got really cool looking – that whole beach bum look. But then puberty hit and you had to start wearing deodorant and using soap, developing an entire hygiene regime. During treatment I could go well over a week without a shower. No hair to wash, no sweat to cleanse, no funk to remove. Since remission, the time between has gotten shorter and shorter. Now, like almost every other functional person I’m showering almost every other day. Poor Rocco is thrilled to see a return to a somewhat methodical approach to cleansing. He could never quite reconcile himself to my reveling in my funk for such long periods.
- Speaking of periods…it’s back – My first period was a doozy. One of the potential side effects of chemo is early menopause. I was period free for six months. Six months filled with hot flashes, night sweats, and all the other joys that menopause brings. Then one day, out of the blue, cramps, mood swings, cravings for chocolate, and an overwhelming desire to nap and not see another human being. TADA! Mom even offered to send me flowers as she did when I got my actual first period at actual age of thirteen.
- I’m obsessed with Twilight– I’ve seen the movie far too many times to be comfortable admitting. So far, I’ve had the Netflix disc in my house for a total of three weeks. I can’t quite bring myself to buy the actual DVD, or the book, or soundtrack. Somehow the two decades between my actual age and my current state of thirteen-ness is preventing me from spending my allowance on such frivolities. Also, I don’t see Rocco supporting my desire to wall paper the bedroom with glossy photos of Robert Pattinson and his dreamy jaw line. Who knew Cedric Diggory could be so bad-boy foxy!?! It’s probably the sexiest PG movie I’ve ever seen. I’m too old to swoon. And yet…thirteen year old pubescent Elly seems to differ.
No more lists, I’m off to day dream of my future vampire boyfriend. Maybe I’ll make a few friendship bracelets while I’m at it.
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