Fiction writing from prompt: “Mom says it happens to all girls, but I think she’s just trying to make me feel normal.” All comments welcome, requested and greatly valued.
Mom says it happens to all girls, but I think she’s just trying to make me feel normal. I’ve been hiding under huge, hideous clothes for over two weeks now. I’m lucky it happened in the late fall, really. I don’t know what I’m going to do in bikini-season.
Brad’s been really nice about it, even though we haven’t been dating for that long. We got together during a school trip to some dusty museum. We bumped into each other at the back, trying to hear as little of the tour as possible.
He’s a good guy considering he’s a high school junior. I know I’m only a year younger, but my mom always told me to look out for older guys. And guys in general, actually. “They’re only after one thing!” etc. If he thinks he’s going to see me with my shirt off just because he’s good with my condition, he’s got another thing coming.
Mom says there are all kinds of changes at my age that girls didn’t talk about. There weren’t even after school specials about some of them. She said that all girls had something to hide, but that I was unlucky enough to have one that was a little harder to conceal. My first response was “bullcrap”, but then my mom said something:
“When was the last time we went to the beach together?”
I thought about it. I’d actually never seen my mom in a bathing suit. I always went with my Aunt Cathy. She never wore anything particularly revealing, although I always thought it was because she was a prude. She’s a tall woman – taller than my dad – and she’s a little pudgy around the middle. Right now she had her hair piled on top of her head as usual and, despite all my comments, make-up that seemed to have been applied with a paint gun. She was wearing a set of floral, elasticated sweats that hid her exact shape to anyone who might be curious. Suddenly, I was curious.
“Mom… is this genetic?”
That was the moment when Brad arrived to help me with my math homework. By math, of course, I meant making out and some over-the-clothes fooling around. That said, I was wearing more clothes than ever now, so it was more for Brad’s benefit than mine. He really was a nice guy, so if he wanted to play with three layers of sweater, who was I to argue?
Brad left kind of late that night, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to Mom about it until the middle of the week when my little problem got even more uncomfortable. Since it was the day before gym class, and my ‘time of the month’ excuse was getting a little thin, I decided to bring it up again. Mom was making my bed when I got home.
“Mom, can we talk about my… changes?”
Today she’s wearing a billowy dress over a heavy turtle neck and thick leggings. Her hands were the only unclothed and unmade-up skin I could see. I noticed because when she sat on my half-made bed, she cracked her knuckles loudly while she considered her next move.
“Okay, sweetie. Close the door and curtains for me. It’s time you knew the truth.”
After I did what she told me to do, I experienced the longest and most uncomfortable hour of my life. It was informative and helped me an awful lot, that’s for sure, but the image of my mom’s naked… Anyway, it was awkward, that’s all I’m saying.
For the last few weeks, I’ve been trying the things my mom had shown me. I even experimented with some muscle exercises and alternative clothing styles to help me hide even better than my she did. When my chem partner asked me today if I was anorexic because I’d “lost weight and gone Goth”, I knew it was working. I’m going to up my exercise routine. I think Dad thinks it’s creepy. I think Mom talked him down.
I’m in college now. I kind of got out of the habit of writing a diary. Anway, I’ve been dating this guy, Matt, for a couple of weeks. We haven’t done anything yet. I told him I want to move slowly. He’s got no idea that I’m different. Hell, apparently he’s talked with his friends about how ‘hot’ I am. I guess the exercises and practice have really paid off. I don’t know whether to talk about it first, or to just let him find out for himself when he takes my shirt off.
Always warn them first.
Matt wasn’t the right guy. He just wanted a hot girl on his arm. When he found out I was more than just a hot girl, he disappeared. I mean, really, he disappeared. There’s a rumour that he had a psychotic break. It’s probably not true. He wasn’t so smart. He probably just dropped out.
Tommy understood. We’d been dating for months before it happened, and I’d been introducing him to the idea since our third date. He kind of liked it, actually. If I’m honest, he liked it a little too much. It was the pictures on the Internet that made me end it. Some guys are weird. Watch out for that.
I’ve decided to put these entries together because I’m pregnant. I don’t want to give you the same weird experience my mom gave me. Even if I did return the favour when she asked me how I looked so thin. Anyway, the trick is to wrap them around your body like a corset. If you do exercises every day, you’ll be able to tone up the muscles so they rest there comfortably. They can even provide some support so you don’t need to juggle bra straps. If you’re lucky, of course, you’ll take after your father. A tail is so much easier to hide than wings. Your dad has it easy, but don’t tell him I told you that.
I can’t wait to meet you.