Puberty Sucks Ass

Puberty has arrived and NG loves it. From having to wear a training-bra and I think somewhat freakishly in love with her changing body to finding a few very short and light hairs under her arm she is all around enjoying this process. TOO FUCKING MUCH. She laughs about it, talks with me incessantly about it, and shows me constantly every major and minor change in her body.

Nonetheless I am thankful that she feels so comfortable with me and feels she can come to me. I have tried to be very open and honest with her. I have made every effort to answer all of her questions. Like when she told me that she didn’t want a ‘broken vagina’ and that she wanted hers to stay the way it is and I explained the importance of a woman having her menstrual cycle even though inside I was screaming I DON’T WANT A ‘BROKEN VAGINA’ either! I want her to hear the birds and the bees and everything in between from me and not from a group of stupid little girls who have gotten their information from God knows where. Like the time that Jennifer R. told me that if I ate Cheetos my boobs would grow and I spent the entire summer before 8^th grade eating NOTHING but Cheetos. I did grow a half a cup size… and I also put on six effing pounds.

I also don’t want to be the mother who doesn’t want to share the truth because I’m uncomfortable or afraid. Like my stepmother whose mother told her that sex was when a man took his penis and peed in you. Of course she was a teenager in the 1960s and amongst a generation of women who had mothers who did not talk of such things. But can you imagine her wedding night? She was terrified.

With the changes going on in NG and little things like getting an email from her teacher that she is sending notes in class to a boy that read ‘do you like me? Circle yes or no’ I am realizing that I am more terrified than I have admitted. One, because she is my child and well there really isn’t a two or three. She is my child, enough said. I’m going to be in a whole lot of fucking trouble… I can already see it.

I am so improperly prepared for this stage of her life. With IG it was very different because the Mr. handled most of the conversations. Although I kept telling IG I was here if he ever needed to talk, I knew that he wouldn’t really ever come to me over his dad. It was an empty gesture. But NG I am sure will be coming to me and the truth is that telling her that sex is when a boy pees in you, on you, I don’t really give a shit where – well it sounds really appealing to me and God willing terrifying enough to repel her from doing ‘it’ for the next oh say ten years.