Growing up as a Girl

Age 5

I’m so happy I’m a girl. I get to do pretty things like ballet and wear pink dresses. I would hate to be a boy and not do all of the fun things I’m able to.

Age 8

The boys laughed at me today. They kicked a ball at my head when I was walking past the football pitch. I don’t know if it was on purpose, but it hurt my feelings. I wish it didn’t make me so upset. They never get upset when they get hit. Maybe boys are just stronger.

Age 10

I tried makeup last month. It was fun at first — putting it on and getting compliments — but now I feel incomplete if I don’t wear it. I get funny looks when I forget mascara. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself not to try it: maybe then I could look at myself the same.

Age 13

I got my period this week. I don’t know why I looked forward to this moment. My mum got all sentimental and told me I was a woman now. That made me cry even more. I’m going to miss girlhood. Even if it’s not really over yet, I feel as though it’s been wasted. I miss wearing my pink dresses and doing ballet. Yesterday I found myself wishing I was a boy for the first time.

Age 16

All the girls my age have had their first kiss. I hate that I haven’t. I hate that all the boys skim over me as they search the room for a better, more pretty version. I don’t know why this makes me so mad. I want to be invisible, but it seems like — because I am — I stick out even more. It’s like I have a huge red label on my forehead with ‘ugly’ written all over it. The boys don’t seem to have this problem. Maybe if I was a boy I could be invisible in the true sense of the word.

Age 19

I applied for my first job last Wednesday. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me. I would be earning minimum wage and cleaning dishes. Only a summer job. When my brother was 19 he applied for a big internship at an impressive computer company. He got in. Everyone was so proud — including me — but we weren’t shocked. Good grades run in our family. I guess that gene skipped me. Or maybe it’s just old news. Maybe I’m not meant for academic success. Maybe I was meant to stay home with kids and crack under society’s pressures.

The story of my life.

The story of girlhood.

- Lucy