the following post comes from lauren dubinsky, and can be found at her blog laurennicolelove, to which i was introduced last week by one of my readers. i highly recommend it.
i asked lauren if i could reproduce her post here, and she graciously said ‘yes.’
The slow thud of pounding bass through my bedroom walls shook me half-awake. I kept my face in my pillow and wondered why it was necessary for music this loud to be played in our family’s home at 7am on Saturday mornings. I pulled my comforter back over my head, and drifted off to sleep for all of two minutes before the fire alarm went off.
Breakfast was ready. And that fire alarm dug it’s nails into my soul.
15 years old. I stumbled in to the kitchen, rubbing my eyes and brushing hair out of my face.
‘Back upstairs, Lauren.’ My mom stood at the stove, waving her spatula at me.
‘UPSTAIRS. You know you can’t wear that around your brothers.’
I shook myself fully awake and glanced down to figure out what she was talking about. Sweatpants and a cami. I guess you could tell my breasts were developing. A little late, I might add.