Chapter 1: Just One of the Herd

I wonder how many people really understand what it’s like to be a young teenage girl in high school? Like I mean, there are times I don’t think even my own mother remembers and she use to be one, albeit long time ago! Oh sure, if you’re a cheerleader or one of the “popular” girls then all you have to do is worry about which guy you’re going to choose. The rest of use in the “herd” are left on the sidelines to watch and dream.

Life really does suck sometimes. I mean like it’s just so unfair! Like for instance, why do some people grow up so much faster than others? We’re all the same species so shouldn’t we all mature at the same rate? Obviously that’s not God’s plan as I was fourteen before I even truly qualified for a training bra - and barely at that. In contrast, years before my best friend Beth already had a set of boobs some college girls would be proud to own. By the time we got to high school she already looked more like she could vote, at least if you only looked at her chest which is about as high as most guys ever got.

Personally I don’t think guys have a clue as to how totally embarrassing it is to be forced to undress in the locker room or even at a sleepover and have to hide the fact that you’ve got the smallest boobs in the room. Yeah, I know some girls try the tissue thing but everyone knows they’re doing it and that just makes it all the more humiliating. As for me, I resorted to deception and misdirection. The way that works is first you have to avoid tight tops so you don’t draw attention to the little bumps on your chest where real breasts should be. That’s the deception part - staying away from anything that drew attention to my boobs, or should I say lack of them.

For misdirection I relied on the only part of my anatomy I was proud of - my butt. My dad started telling me before I hit double digits that I had the cutest bottom of all my friends. Needless to say I loved to show it off to him, fishing for all the compliments I could get. Oh sure, he’s my dad and dads are SUPPOSE to say those sort of things about their daughters but what girl doesn’t crave a compliments regardless of who they come from? So my wardrobe entering high school consisted primarily of short shorts, bikini bottoms, tights, painted on jeans, basically anything that drew attention to my behind and away from anything higher up.

For example I found that walking around the city pool in a loose T-shirt was fine so long as it was short and let me show off my ass clad in nothing more than a skimpy bikini bottom. I mean most girls never actually goes IN the pool anyway so it worked most of the time at least. The only time my scheme failed was when some jerk immature boy splashed water on me and got the T-shirt soaking wet. Let’s just say that wet T-shirt contest are for girls WITH boobs, not for those of us still wishing for them and leave it at that.

Not only were my boobs failing to keep up with my hormones, it didn’t help that when I looked in the mirror it seemed to me like I was staring at a little 6th grader. Much to my never ending chagrin, it’s like anyone who doesn’t know me always thinks I’m at least two or three grades younger than I actually am. I’ve learned that this means either the desirable boys think you’re still just a kid and keep clear or they’re future pedophiles who are already getting off by hitting on younger girls in hopes of being their “first”. It’s like they just want another notch in their belts so that wasn’t for me.