A lot happens throughout the next several chapters – so I'm dividing them up the best I can to avoid any confusion... including the dreams.
This is about the time the dreams in question first started.
I suppose you could say this was the point in my life where I had a mini "glow-up". Now, my momma reads all my books before I publish them and, she didn't know what a glow-up was when she initially read this part. Understandable. So, for those like my Momma who do not know what that is, I'll quickly define it for you.
A "glow-up" is a slang term used to describe a significant transformation that is perceived as an improvement – typically used when referring to physical appearance. It's just a fancy term used to describe the process of turning into a better version of yourself.
At least what you deem a better version, that is.
I was now entering the seventh and eighth grades at this point – and if you were anything like me, this was already a very awkward time in a teenager's life.
I could have used band-aids as a makeshift bra for the mosquito bites that I dared to consider boobs... at least at that point, that is. You see, I was so flat, I was bullied for it – by one girl, in particular. The Summer of my eighth-grade year, however, I blossomed – and that's honestly putting it delicately; more delicate than the difference one Summer made for my "breast friends" and me, that is.
I'm sure it goes without saying, that the "blossoming" rendered all my previous flat-chest bully offenders utterly speechless. I went from a very small "A" size cup... to a large "C" size cup that Summer. By the time I entered High School, I had topped out at a double "D" size cup with mild spillage.
I now have a heaping serving of triple "D" cups with a side of crippling back pain. So – I'm not exactly sure who got the last laugh with that one... me or the bullies.
This is probably a point where I'd insert a cute little, "LOL," but I'm not laughing – not even a little bit. For any young women out there, who want bigger breasts... come talk to me before you consider doing something about it!
Now, I will dignify that with a small, audible chuckle.
Chuckle.
I will also say that, in my completely biased and unprofessional opinion, I feel as if they add the appearance of bulk for those with broader shoulders. I'm always comparing myself to the guy with the shrunken head sitting atop an average-sized body next to Geena Davis in that DMV waiting room scene in the first Beetlejuice movie.
Let's fill in a few gaps that took place during this time.
I had tried my hand at playing the flute in the school band for two years... wasn't my thing. I have somewhat of a speech impediment called a tongue thrust – so I'm gonna blame it for not doing well.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Fun fact: I used to dance with a dance troupe that placed in the finals of Star Search back in the day. It was tapping and clogging, but still really wasn't my thing. I love to watch it but doing it myself just wasn't it. To clarify, I didn't dance with them on Star Search, I danced with a studio that did when the studio first opened and started locally.
I had braces for approximately two years around this time frame, I believe... give or take.
I was a Cheerleader through middle school up until seventh and eighth grade, then I switched it up and got on the dance team. By that point, I was between thirteen to sixteen.
I've always had a lot of health issues; besides the ones I was born with, this is around the time everything kind of began medically.
I believe around fourteen or so was when I was initially diagnosed with depression... and where that entire iceberg begins. We will most definitely be getting a lot more into that a little later.
This was also around the time that some painful bumps started popping up on the bottom of my feet. For those who can relate to plantar warts... bless you. The only reason I even bring this subject up – is because of something that would only happen to me... because why wouldn't it, right?
The first couple of times I had them and my regular doctor got rid of them, everything went fine. When a few more popped up, my doctor was out of town – but her colleague had an opening to squeeze me in. She did something incorrectly... and caused them to spread.
A lot.
At one time, I had maybe thirteen on the bottom of my teenage foot.
It wasn't pleasant.
Anyways – okay, moving on.
By the time I was old enough to get my first job... I quickly got one that I loved... just before I began getting groomed by a twenty-four-year-old co-worker. I didn't know the severity and gravity of the situation at the time, I just remember naively thinking, "Ooh! There's a male showing interest in me!" Trust me, I'm aware of just how insanely pathetic that sounds, but you'll soon find out why I felt that way. I'm sure it goes without saying, when I casually told my mom about us as if it were no big deal – the situation was quickly resolved. I also ended up quitting that job and eventually moved on to another as a cashier at the local grocery store. That will be where you will meet most of my past flings and flames throughout my time in high school a bit later.
Most girls my age around this time were not just starting their periods... but some had visits from Great Aunt Flo going on for at least a year or two. So, my mom had some cause for concern when I had not started mine by the age of fifteen.
This is also when I became infatuated with being "popular," and wanting to "fit in."
Yeah. I'll get to that.
My Mom scheduled an appointment with my doctor to address the lack of a menstrual cycle. My doctor said she would do some labs just to check but had a pretty good idea as to what was probably going on with me.
Given the symptoms, and upon further examination, my doctor concluded that I most likely had polycystic ovarian syndrome. She sent me home with a prescription for birth control that would work to make me have a monthly cycle, which I had to take up until I was in early adulthood. More about that later.
When we got to the car to head home, I came clean to my mom about how disgusting I found the whole urine sample process to be. When she asked me what I meant, exactly, I told her that you have no idea who else is using that toilet – therefore it's gross to have to dip out of it.
Yeah.
No, no... you heard that right. Boy, I am really showing my cards to y'all; maybe a bit too much, huh? I promise I'm not entirely void of common sense and intelligence.
I dipped the sample cup into the toilet basin to retrieve my urine.
Needless to say, my results came back inconclusive.
Oh, and yes, for those who may be curious – I do know how to properly obtain a urine sample now, thanks for the concern.
For those of you who are judging me right about now – we've already established that I'm just honored to be in the same jar as the smart cookies given I resonate more with the Ding Dong cakes... okay?
After being on the pill long enough for it to kick into my system, I finally started having periods regularly... excessively. After I had been on it for a while, something else began to happen.
But, before I tell you about that, I want to take a little break from the more serious stuff and get into the juicy stuff you really want to know all about... my steamy love life.
Fine. I'll pacify you for the time being – but just for a little while.