Tears of rage rushed to my eyes, and Margot and Mother began laughing at me.
I was so furious that I stuck my tongue out at them, right there on the street.
A little old lady happened to be passing by, and she looked terribly shocked. I rode my bike home and must have cried for hours.
Strangely enough, even though Mother has wounded me thousands of times, this particular wound still stings whenever I think of how angry I was.
I find it difficult to confess the second one because it's about myself.
I'm not prudish, Kitty, and yet every time they give a blow-by-blow account of their trips to the bathroom, which they often do,
my whole body rises in revolt. Yesterday I read an article on blushing by Sis Heyster.
It was as if she'd addressed it directly to me. Not that I blush easily, but the rest of the article did apply.
What she basically says is that during puberty girls withdraw into themselves
and begin thinking about the wondrous changes taking place in their bodies.
I feel that too, which probably accounts for my recent embarrassment over Margot, Mother and Father.
On the other hand, Margot is a lot shyer than I am, and yet she's not in the least embarrassed.
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