Camp Ijustsproutedboobies
During the summer after fifth grade, I went to sleep away camp for a week. It was 1985 and one of the hit songs of the summer was “On My Own” by Patti LaBelle and Michael McDonald. That really isn’t important to the story, but I just thought I add that little morsel of knowledge in there in case you ever need it in a trivia situation.
Camp, to me, was fabulous! It was my first time away from home where I wasn’t staying with family, but being cared for by responsible TEENAGERS. I adored the cabin I shared with other squealing girls, it was like we were all grown up, living in our own house. The smell of wood and bug spray permeated the air, as did the scent of Payday candybars (nonmelting!). Each day was spent eating at the mess hall, complaining about the food (but secretly LOVING it), swimming, crafts with sticks and yarn, and all sorts of other camp-like activities. It was very campy.
On the next to last day of camp, I hit a significant milestone in my physical development. Laying upon my cot, chatting and giggling with the other girls, I remember rolling over onto my stomach to fall asleep and feeling…something. Where my flat chest once resided, were now two knots?! Literally overnight (or overday?) I had sprouted little boobies. I felt so different and grown up, like a real WOMAN.
The next day, I held my head up proudly and stuck out my chest to show off my new knockers. I was sure everyone was looking at me and thinking, “wow! She got her boobies!” Really, though, they were probably thinking, “Oh that poor girl. What an awkward stage she’s in.”
Um, yeah, so I guess that’s the end of the story. Huh? This idea seemed better in my head. Just wait until I tell you the story about when I started my period on the last day of 7th grade while wearing a white dress. Now THAT is an AWESOME story.















