The Puberty is a monster that lives in our house. It lurks under the bed with your lost ballet shoes and missing hair bands. It sneaks into your cupboards and hides your favourite T-shirt amongst your sister’s toys. It eats all of your “special” cereal, you know, the box that you insisted that I buy even though we all know that you have never eaten it in your life. And then never looked at once it was placed on the kitchen counter.
The Puberty took up residence in our house just after you learnt about it in Life Skills, one of your favourite subjects in school. It crept in and started tormenting your little sister with eye rolls and dismissive sniffs. It brought tears and tantrums with it, along with moody silences, acne, and overly dramatic retellings of the day’s events.
The Puberty is a snarky bitch. It mimics your voice perfectly and says mean things when my back is turned. Which of course you deny even hearing. But you do hear The Puberty. Your hear the nasty things it says about you. That you aren’t good enough. That you aren’t smart, clever, pretty, or thin enough. That you aren’t enough. The Puberty is wrong. You are good enough. You are more than good enough, you are you. And nothing can ever change that or take that away from you. When The Puberty finally slithers out of your life it will take all the bad things with it and only leave the good behind.
And that day can’t come soon enough.