Okay. Something weird is happening.
And by weird, I mean awesome. And by awesome, I mean—I think my body finally got the memo.
It started about a week ago, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I figured maybe I was imagining it, like those phantom growth spurts I used to pray for. But now? It’s definitely real. My body is changing. Like, for real changing.
The first thing I noticed was my chest. Not even kidding, I have actual boobs now. They’re small, sure, but they’re there. I’m officially an A cup! Mom took me bra shopping last weekend, and we left the kids’ section behind. We went to the real bra section. I kept looking around like someone was going to tell me I didn’t belong there. But nope—I do now.
I ended up picking out a couple of cute bras. Nothing too fancy, but they actually have cups. And padding. (Mom said I didn’t need the padding, but I kind of wanted it, okay?) When I tried them on at home, I stood in front of the mirror forever just… staring. It’s not like they’re huge or anything, but after being flat as a board for so long? It’s a big deal. They make my shirts fit different, too. I caught myself tugging at the fabric a little, like, Whoa, is this what having curves feels like? Spoiler: it’s pretty cool.
And get this—I’m finally growing taller, too! This morning, I measured myself three times just to be sure. I’m officially 4'0 now. That’s two whole inches in just a couple of weeks. I know I’m still small, but for me? That’s huge. It feels like my body finally found the “on” switch and decided to go for it.
When I told Mom, she hugged me so tight I could barely breathe. She said, “See? I told you your time would come.” And Dad? He called me his “little late bloomer bean sprout” and ruffled my hair. Classic Dad move.
And Hillary? Yeah, she noticed. Last night when we did the usual back-to-back measuring contest, she actually paused. “You are taller,” she said, sounding kinda surprised. Then she gave me this sideways look and added, “And… you’re filling out.” I didn’t know whether to feel proud or embarrassed. Maybe a little of both. But hey, I’ll take it. She’s still taller—she’s up to 4'9 now—but for the first time, it doesn’t feel like I’m stuck at the bottom.
Even my face looks different lately. Less baby-faced, more… I don’t know. Grown-up, I guess? Mom says I have “a glow.” Which makes me sound like a lightbulb, but whatever. I’ll take it.
I know I still have a ways to go, but it finally feels like I’m catching up. I’m getting taller. I’m growing curves. I’m wearing a real bra. It’s happening.
And honestly? It feels pretty amazing.
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