Читать книгу Leaving the OCD Circus - Kirsten Pagacz - Страница 20

My boobs looked different in the bathtub and when I was changing my top. I looked down. “Yikes! These are weird.” I poked at one of them to see what it would do. My boobs didn't really look very booby-ish; they looked like tiny, pointy, stretched-out white balloons with light pink-colored tips. Yuck! They looked like they had started growing and abruptly stopped. I could really see why my mom thought I should cover mine up with a training bra at first. I was on board with this idea; the faster I could cover them, the better.

I didn't like the dark brown hairs showing up on my lady area either; they made me feel more wrong. My dad liked to talk to me about my vagina and about me becoming a woman. He said he'd throw a party for me when I got my period; this way everyone would know I was a woman. I was very uzmfortable when he talked to me like that.

Sergeant offered me a place where my boobs didn't exist anymore; where my dad couldn't frighten me with his talks, drugs, and loud music; a place where I was not left alone in the house waiting for my mom to come home from work, where I was no longer Kirsten Weirdsten.