Puberty was quite hard for me, I was literally flatter than a pancake for what seemed like an eternity... I was just like two drops of maple syrup on a plate. By the end of primary school it started to look like I’d glued two Strawberries & Creams to myself... in case I got hungry during Social Studies. In my first year of High School I blossomed into a couple of home made pikelets with jam & by grade ten I'd developed a nice set of scones… only one hadn’t risen properly. The following year I managed to grow an impressive pair of muffin tops, but not on my chest, & it turns out hip cleavage just doesn’t have quite the same effect on boys… or girls… or teachers.
At that point I realised I should probably stop doing Home Ec… the food analogies were getting out of hand. But it didn’t stop there, in grade twelve I started referring to them as Salt & Pepa, like the condiments... cuz one top was slightly darker than the other. But I told people I meant the singers, cuz my boobs liked to Shoop… Shoop’e’doop’e’doop’e’doop, & then we’d all start dancing in the quad like a flash mob on the set of Glee. Or at least that’s how I remember it... might’ve had something to do with the combination of anti-depressants & the huge spliff I’d smoked at recess, but I guess we’ll never know.
Thankfully High School’s over and my lady bumps have finally settled on a baked good we can both agree on… meringues... cuz they're so white everyone I've slept with &/or flashed is now legally blind.
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