April 5th
So… this is unexpected.
I think Hillary is jealous of me.
I know. Sounds crazy, right? The girl who’s been taller than me since forever, who got her period before I even had a training bra, who constantly reminds me of how “tiny” I am—jealous of me? But something is definitely going on, and I don’t think it’s just in my head.
It started last weekend when Mom took us shopping for spring clothes. Usually, shopping is hell for me. Everything either looks too babyish or doesn’t fit right. But this time? I actually found stuff that made me feel... I don’t know, like a real teenager. I’m still short—3'8, haven’t grown an inch—but for the first time ever, my body actually looks a little different. My chest has officially hit AA-cup territory. Tiny, sure, but not flat. I actually fill out a bra now. Barely. But still.
And it showed. Clothes just… fit better. Like they were meant for someone my age, not some elementary school lost-and-found rack. I could feel the difference. I could see it too. And apparently, so could everyone else.
Mom kept saying stuff like, “You’re really growing up, Mollie,” and “Wow, this one looks so cute on you!” And Hillary? She went silent. Like, unusually quiet. And for her, that’s saying something.
The next day, I caught her staring at me while I was getting dressed. Not in a weird way—just watching. I asked what she was looking at, and she said, “Nothing,” but her tone had this weird sharpness. Like it was something, but she didn’t want to say.
Then the passive-aggressive comments started. When I told her I had cramps for the first time, she just shrugged and said, “Oh, that’s nothing. Mine are way worse. You probably just think it hurts because you’re new to it.” And when Mom handed me a chocolate bar to cheer me up, Hillary muttered, “Guess we’re just handing out candy for growing boobs now.”
Seriously??
But today was the real kicker. We were brushing our teeth and out of nowhere she goes, “You know, just because you finally hit puberty doesn’t mean you’re, like, mature or anything.”
I just stared at her like, Wow. That came out of nowhere.
I told Mom about it, and she just smiled and said, “Maybe it’s hard for her, seeing you grow in ways that make her feel less… ahead.” And I guess that makes sense. Even though Hillary’s still 4'6 and has more curves than I do, maybe she feels like she’s not the “grown-up” one anymore now that I’m catching up.
I don’t want her to feel bad, I really don’t. But I’ve been stuck in this tiny body for so long, I just want to enjoy this feeling for a second. I’m still small, still have a long way to go—but for once, I actually feel like I’m changing. Like I belong in my own age group.
Maybe Hillary and I will figure it out. Maybe we’ll fight again tomorrow. Who knows?
But for now? I’m just going to celebrate every little change, every small win. Even if it's just finally needing a real bra.
One step closer.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author