My Little Girl's Metamorphosis

One morning last summer, my daughter woke up and her body had changed. She wasn't a string bean anymore. She was exploding out of her clothes, and I looked at her in awe. What had happened overnight to my 8-year-old? And then it hit me. She was growing up.

I wasn't ready for the metamorphosis. Thoughts of puberty seemed years away. But staring me right in the face was a little girl evolving into a young woman. She had hips and tiny breasts and a new graceful air of maturity. Her development so far has been pretty predictable and smooth, but these next few years may take us on a more turbulent ride. The trip into adolescence can be bumpy at times.
The first hints of maturity are subtle physical changes. Small breasts pressing through a tight T-shirt, jeans pulling at the hips, evidence of pubic hair. Within two years of these changes, girls usually get their first period.

Before school today, my daughter came into my room pulling on the sleeves of her shirt. "Mom, this doesn't fit anymore," she complained. Since early summer, I've become accustomed to that observation, and I'm trying to get used to the idea I'll be watching her outgrow more than just her clothes over the next few years.

Erin is the youngest of five children. She is physically strong. Erin likes playing outside in the sand pit with tractors and cars at the Child Parent Centre. She is very agile and climbs and swings on the gym equipment. Erin has grown quickly and sometimes looks as though she's bursting out of her clothes. The teachers have commented that she's very bright and she looks lively and interested in everything that goes on in the centre.

Naomi Nari Nam was one of the three skaters I'd never seen in person before, skating to a chipmunky (young Michael Jackson?) version of Rockin' Robin--one of my least favorite music selections of the night. She's definitely talented, but I prefer the more mature likes of Sarah Hughes and Sasha Cohen in the "baby ballerina" department. And another thing, someone needs to tell her she's outgrown the tiny red costume she was using back in 1998. (In Tampa, Naomi was the only skater who actually took a fall.)

The exercise and the mist had combined to cause almost everyone's shirt to tighten like mine. Joy's shirt was oversized to start with, so I couldn't tell what was underneath, but Holly was wearing an older camp t-shirt from several years ago, and the now tightened too-small shirt clearly showed her budding mounds, which had yet to seriously develop. Linda was wearing some type of bikini top under her t-shirt, but it was clear that when she finished developing, she would be something special. Dana apparently was a late bloomer, as I could not make out anything under her black T-shirt. The outline of Randi's bra was clearly visible through her shirt, and I wondered just what that bra contained. Finally, I looked at Denise. She was wearing an all-white T-shirt, which was just a little snug. Here breasts were a little on the small side, but through the white fabric, I could see her nipples, the size of pencil erasers.

Irene, 16, Uganda "When my breasts started growing, I used to wear very tight T-shirts, my little sister's T-shirts. I wanted to flatten myself."
Angela, 17, Kenya I was conscious and always wore a baggy sweater when they started appearing. I used to feel uneasy as I was in a mixed school and didn't know what the boys would say."
I wore miniskirts although I was thirty-something and had five children. As Rebekah grew into her teens, last year's dress became more and more fashionable, the taller she grew. Which was lucky considering the state of our finances.

Stephanie was becoming more and more of a showoff of her age altering ability all the time. At first it was just with me, but lately, she had started experimenting with outgrowing her outfits as she wore them in public, acting like nothing was happening as her body enlarged a bit. After her mother left, she said she was going to go change clothes and go out to play.
When she came out of the room, I couldn't believe my eyes. She was wearing her little dress that normally fit her non-existent curves perfectly, but she had made herself at least a year older. Now the dress was so small, you could see all of her legs and could almost see the bottom of her panties.
"Steph!" I exclaimed. "What are you trying to prove. That dress is too small for you at this age. I can almost see your panties."
"Do you like it?" she asked, as she held her arms out from her body and turned around, adding a few more months to her age as she twirled.
Now I could clearly see her white cotton panties, and they too were too small and tight. As she turned, the white cheeks of her bubble butt came into view. I still couldn't figure out why she had aged herself almost into a young teen to go out and play though.
"My mom says it will rip if I'm not careful, but I know when to stop. She wanted to give it to the Goodwill, but I hid it so I could have fun slightly outgrowing my clothes as I'm talking to people. They can't be sure what's happening. I like how the look in their eyes makes me feel. Can I leave it here with my other bathing suit....PLEASE?"

Sarah as you know has just turned seventeen and is studying for her "A" levels at Acton Sixth Form College.
It is quite clear too, that Sarah, being endowed with such a comely physique and appearance, and being, in short, and if I may be open with you, an extremely pretty girl, might also succumb to the blandishments of some of the boys in the college.
Now, I do sincerely hope you will not mind me mentioning my next point, and I do so conscious of the fact that as a good and caring mother you are doing everything possible to provide for Sarah's every need. However, it must be said, and this is in no sense a criticism of your good self, that it seems as if sometimes the poor girl looks as if she might at any moment burst out of her clothes.
She always seems to wear garments a size or two behind her explosive and exuberant growth, and I cannot help but notice how her blossoming proportions strain at the seams of her blouses and jeans.
In fact, there are moments, I must confess, when her presence in the college seems to shrink the place, making its rules and regulations seem absurd, its classrooms quaint and foolish, and certainly quite beside the point.

Becky had been checking out the fit of her school uniform, and it was clearly a little too tight across the chest as she stood in front of the mirror. She considered her uniform again and sighed, once again she would hear the word ‘tease’ muttered behind her back. Truth be told Becky had no intention of trying to show off her body, it was just that her growth spurt had hit rather late and her parents couldn’t quite keep up with her lengthening legs and expanding bust line, as it was she looked like some kind of schoolgirl fantasy.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT! You LIED to me! You lied to me and you pretended to be my friend and you helped trap me into this." Jasmine shouted at her companion, raising her arms to point at the pale blue sun dress she wore today, but her motion was too sudden and her adolescent growth spurt too recent for the dress. A seam ripped with loud complaint. "Son of a BITCH!" Jasmine shouted. With that, she bolted for the house, kicking her sandals off in the process and reveling in the momentary freedom that accompanied her flight from Marla's revelation.

Sun lies like a fallen branch on Jessy's beginning breasts. She can feel them in the tight of her T-shirt, pushing up where Snoopy's ears have worn away. The shirt was bought big to grow into. Back then it flapped like a flag on her bird-bone chest, the cartoon dog dancing, flamenco black and red. Not now. Now she's bread dough, not bones. She can feel herself rising.

After making sure that nobody was in the vicinity, she dropped her school briefcase to the ground and proceeded to exit the window. She decided to exit by rear, so she grabbed a nearby chair to assist her departure. The window was smaller than she had thought; either that or she had grown bit taller. She had a some difficulty in trying to squeeze her hips out of the frame. After few minutes and some grunting, she found herself holding on to the ledge, unsure about her choice.

I cannot remember the way she appeared when we were both young. The years crawled by, and I did not always wonder about the girl in the glass. She was as insignificant as a cough, as ordinary as a pigeon. Her hair became disheveled, her clothing becoming too small for her frame. I tried to ignore her image, but the task seemed impossible. I saw her everywhere, in the bathroom mirror, in the water, and in the glass of the window.

STORY: KIM MASSERIA REMEMBERS THE PAIR OF BLACK PATENT LEATHER SHOES WITH THREE STRAPS THAT HER PARENTS BOUGHT HER AT KAMILOVIC'S STORE. KIM LOVED THE SHOES SO MUCH THAT SHE REFUSED TO ADMIT IT WHEN THE SHOES FINALLY BECAME TOO SMALL FOR HER. PAINFUL OR NOT, KIM WORE THE SHOES UNTIL THEY FELL APART.