The era of bad bras, fifteen thousand crushes, and all things strange. |

When I first turned 13, I was frankly terrified. Everything was changing, in and around me. My body was having strange growth spurts (in like every region possible), and people were now reacting in a much different manner in my company. My old clothes looked terrible on me. I was bleeding every month from a place that I never even considered before. And the most annoying thing? How every other guy on the road seemed like prince charming on a white horse.

My first period was strange and confusing. While my mother had previously explained what might ‘soon happen’, how could anyone ever be ready to wake up one fine morning with blood-stained panties? It was horrible! I didn’t know what to do, all my pajamas were stained within a week, and I cried because it hurt.

Then came the bra shopping. Weird, weird, weird. The first time I wore a bra, it was a myriad of emotions. And somehow, it just didn’t feel right. I had this thing around my newly-found boobs all the time. Like all the time. But I couldn’t survive without it now. I had to either walk around with this piece of fabric encasing my boobs, or have them flying around everywhere. And of course, the latter didn’t look elegant at all.

Naturally, like all other things (boobs, blood, weight), the hormones surged too. And somehow, every guy was a crush. The odd neighbor. The distant hot cousin. The guy who sat across the table in my tuition. Celebrities. No one was spared. It was so exciting at first, exhilarating. Also nauseating, because 90% of these boys were people I’d never see again.

The concept of having a boyfriend was momentous. Every friend who got a boyfriend was deemed ‘fascinating’. Like, woah. There were girls out there who could look like unbalanced fairies and still get a boyfriend? Wow. Of course, the boyfriends looked like crap too, but at that point, it was like dating George Clooney.

It’s difficult to understand what the opposite sex was going through at the same time. Girls had boobs and blood to handle, but boys seemed like gods at that point. One moment we were all hopping around, playing hide & seek, the next moment we were blushing at each other from across party halls.

People had begun seeing me in a different light. Or maybe it was that way on both ends. No one could deny the way men looked at you now. It was disgusting and icky. You wanted to be noticed, but not in that way. But hey, eventually I got used to it. Even today, stares continue, but you learn to deal with them by either glaring back, or simply walking away.

Today, at 18 years of age. a lot of things have changed, some of them haven’t. Turns out you don’t stay gawky and ugly all your life. You discover better bras, make-up, and even find friends who will be there by your side forever (including boys. YES, boys can be best friends too! Suck it, 13-year old me!). Lipstick isn’t that complicated after all, though I still have no idea on how to purchase make-up without selling a kidney. Boyfriends are humans too, though sometimes they can turn out to be monsters from hell. And as for boys in general, they are men now. Wonderful people, really, with a different attitude towards life. They can still be as confusing as a tangled ball of wool, or as easy as a line of dominoes. But still wonderful.

Also annoying as shit.

http://static.tumblr.com/4aaded1d5308f13dafd0a797147e1485/kyyge8x/Lk5mr9ea9/tumblr_static_cute-girl-nerdfromparis-sketch-tchubirabiron-favim.com-135823.jpg
http://static.tumblr.com/4aaded1d5308f13dafd0a797147e1485/kyyge8x/Lk5mr9ea9/tumblr_static_cute-girl-nerdfromparis-sketch-tchubirabiron-favim.com-135823.jpg

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