The past couple of months have been a roller-coaster ride for me. Sometimes I love myself but other times I hate myself with equal passion. Some days I feel like the most beautiful girl on planet earth and other days I feel like the k in knot.
At first, I was super excited that my crush had finally noticed me and so I embraced the changes. I felt more feminine and visible than I ever had been before that. I strutted along the school paths as a queen and was delighted to be receiving some ‘positive’ attention for anything other than academics.
However, with time, I have come to detest the so-called changes. My pretty outfits no longer fit quite right and it is getting harder to predict my size. My body seems to have a life of its own and every so often, the changes surprise me. The growth spurts occur so regularly I feel I will soon be bigger than my mother is. Oh the horror!
Nothing quite prepared me for these changes. Teachers and parents alike skirted around the issue without fully addressing it. My mom simply told me that soon I would be a woman and I need to carry myself as a lady, meaning with dignity and high social standing. The teachers demonstrated what to do when the red monster arrives. But no one talked about the social and psychological changes that accompany the physical changes.
In my anticipation to grow older, I did not anticipate that with these changes came added responsibility. I can no longer play with my brother as I used to because it is not lady-like. The freedoms I craved seem illusionary now. I wanted to be in charge of myself, but that thought now scares me. What with the men around me who are always looking at me differently? Different because I can’t tell if they want to help or they want their share.
I am hungry all the time but the more I eat, the bigger I become and the uglier I feel. The uglier I feel, the more moody I become. The moodier I am, the more I feel like eating. Such a vicious cycle, I want to die. Then do not forget the mean peers: those who never cease to remind me of my ugliness. Ugliness because I look different. Why would God give me such a deformity? I just wanted to stand out for all the good reasons, not become the sore thumb.
I just wish to go back in time to the time before I ‘blossomed’ and be free to be me. No stares. No new clothes. No attention. Just a petite small me. Help? Anyone?
Author: Keziah Mutua | Date Created2017-05-31 07:13:56 | Comments: 0