October 2007

When do I get boobs, Mum?

Oh my god, mother in heaven, you know you're old when your daughter asks exactly the same boob question you asked your mum (back in 1982 in my case, when I was twelve): "When Do I get Boobs, Mum?" I remember clearly my own mother's answer: in a couple of years, love. "But Mum, a lot of my friends have them and I have NOTHING." Be patient love, you'll get 'em.

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Hmmmm, well I did get 'em, but I had to put on twenty kilos to do so. And it took twenty odd, oh so odd years to get 'em. That is awfully upsetting in itself. But worse still: my daughter is only TEN!

Lil has friends who not only wear training singlets (oh yes, our marketers are evil I tell you - too small for a training bra? Look at what we can do for you!) but also dangling earrings AND g-strings. See, that makes me a little nauseous: what mother really wants her daughter entertaining a full-time spaghetti wedgie?

My girl loves horses. And Nintendo DS (is that what it's called?). She loves her Golden Retriever, her Maltese Terrier, her two Burmese cats, she loves jumping on the trampoline, riding the train to school with her mates, going to the movies (I recommend Evan Almighty, by the way - we pissed ourselves!!!), watching ABC Kids ...

She's TEN. Aren't boobs something you don't really think about until teen-dom? And aren't you supposed to cry when, out with your mum, you bought your first bra? (Or was that just me?) Even after desiring boobies, when it comes to recognising their existence (albeit puny), are we not supposed to resist them because, whoa-my-god, so embarrassing? Apparently, not anymore.

Or maybe I'm just sadly resisting the fact that I'm getting older and my daughter is, well, also getting older.

Is it wrong to want her childhood to just hang around a bit? I LOVE shopping, and I seem to have done a lot of it for her over the past ten years. Next stop: bra department and the "personal hygiene section in the supermarket." For not much longer will I be dragged to the toy section of David Jones in Toowong. Already, we're more likely to head towards the "Games" section. I kind of hate that, but the thought of taking her to the "grown up" world ... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

I tell you what, this is really hard. But, if she gets big tits at the age of 14, whilst still being a size eight, I'm going to write a treatise on the non-existence of God. In the meantime, we're booked in for a holiday at Tugan over Christmas, and the little boob-less boob-wanter has made me vow to take her to Sea World. I think I'd rather take her bra-shopping.

Julie Kelso e julieanne.kelso@uq.edu.au