THE BEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE

by
Megan Hall

Being an early developer was never going to be easy. I�d spend every spare hour in the Formica bathroom, checking my armpits for sprouting hairs every day before school. I didn�t want to grow up. Some days, when my Mum was out, I�d break into her bedroom and open up her top drawer, peeping through her suspender belts and prodding the paper wrapper Tampax. I used to pull the instructions out and get myself worked up, wondering how such a big card thing could fit up the little hole between my legs. I dreaded the day I would start my period, and I made a concerted effort to hide it from my Mum. Not that she didn�t try, she had quite a few uncomfortable conversations telling me about the birds and the bees, but I never wanted to talk. I�d rather be upstairs reading Smash Hits than talking about trainer bras. It sucked being a girl.

For starters, I was the tallest person in my year; at least a few inches taller than the biggest boy, and I was ugly. My nose grew before the rest of my face. I�d measure it daily to check the growth rate, with a see through ruler from under my bed. All the kids would laugh at me in the playground, doing aeroplane impressions on my way into school. Having a nose that looked like Concorde dented any chance I ever had of getting a boyfriend. It was the bane of my life.

�Mum, when can I have plastic surgery?�

�Don�t say that love, there�s nothing wrong with your nose. It�s just grown a bit before the rest of your face. Don�t worry, give it a few months and you will turn into a beautiful butterfly. Besides, it�s got character..!�

Mum would try and tell me that I was pretty, and that one day I would fall in love with a prince on a horse, who would love my big conk and everything about me. I wished that day would come soon. I dreamed of being blonde and blue eyed, like my arch nemesis Helen �perfect� Conway. Instead I inherited my Fathers� genes - I looked like an Iranian peasant farmer, complete with a bad perm and matching moustache.

To cheer me up from my burgeoning puberty enhanced morbid state, Mum took me out on a daytrip to Flamingo Land. As my cousin Jessie had been behaving herself on the last three visits, she was allowed to come along too.

On the way to Flamingo Land I puked three times in the back of Mum�s Cortina. Every time I sat on the back seat of a car, I�d chuck up my breakfast into a carrier bag stash tucked under the seat. Mum would try and take my mind off the rising feeling by stocking up on a tape collection � her favourite was �Crushed By The Wheels Of Industry� by Heaven 17 , �20 Soft Metal Classics�, and �Reckless� by Bryan Adams. We�d also listen to Rainbow and Heart and Annie Lennox as Mum roared along the back roads on our special days out.

Mum knew what it was like to be travel sick.

�I was just the same as you � it only stopped when I started driving��

Mum would push up the volume and start singing with the windows wound down.

�I got my first real six string, oh at the five and dime�played it �til ma finger bled, was the summer of 69!�

Knowing that I had a potential 10 years worth of back seat chundering ahead of me hardly filled me with wonder. And I was ever so slightly embarrassed at Mum�s bad singing, as Jessie laughed at Mum�s Bryan Adams impression.

�Now, girls.... Today I want you to have a good time and go on any rides you want. The only thing I ask is that you don�t argue.�

Jessie looked at me across the backseats and poked her tongue out from behind Mum�s head.

�Mum�.Mum! Jessie��

�Shut it! Both of you. Jessie � I saw that. I have a special eye, don�t forget. And as for you - young Madame, you can stop being a tell tale tit. If you don�t stop it RIGHT NOW I�m taking you both home.�

We sheepishly unfastened our seat belts, pulled up our socks and cleared out the sick bags.

My Mum had bright red hair, wore handmade jewellery, and had perfect polished nails. She had pale green eyes, with brown splattered freckles across the surface, always topped off with turquoise eye shadow from expensive counters in Fortnum and Masons. My Mum was also as big as a house. Sometimes when she came into school the kids would laugh at me because my Mum was so fat. It wasn�t her fault she liked Jaffa Cakes. She was just my Mum, and I loved her no matter how fat she was. But I�d still be embarrassed when she came to pick me up. I didn�t want the boys to point at her.

The summer we went to Flamingo Land she had been on a diet. The fridge was stocked with Lean Cuisines, and Mum was convinced she could lose four stone. Chocolate, cheese, sweets, and cakes were all banned from the house, alongside fizzy drinks and Garibaldi biscuits. This was the 3rd diet she had tried that year. Mum was always on a diet. They never seemed to last long. She was unhappy when she was fat and unhappy when she was dieting. She would be happy when she had lost two stone, and then celebrate by putting it all back on again. No matter how much Dad ate, he was always like a beanpole.

Mum used to cry when she put weight on, and then make herself better by eating a packet of biscuits all in one go. One time she told me that she had gone to the jewellers to have her wedding ring cut off, because her finger had outgrown the gold. That made her sadder than anything. She never got it replaced, convinced that she would be thin enough one day to fit back into it. I�d stand and watch her tipping herself to one side on the bathroom scales every night, convincing herself she had lost half a pound. The scales made her sad, and I swore when I grew up, I�d never own a pair. The scales were mean, and made my Mum cry.

That morning at Flamingo Land we spent at least two hours on the Waltzers, Ghost Trains, Haunted Houses, and a ride called The Black Hole. We ran in our jellybean shoes through to the zoo to watch depressed lions pacing about in their concrete floored cages. The zoo had tigers, and leopards, otters and penguins, all sat around in the drizzle of a Yorkshire summer.

�Auntie Joan, why is the polar bear sad?�

Jessie poked her finger through the cage as the white bear sat in a pool of stale water, his head bowed towards the crowds of children waving through the grates.

�He�s not sad Jess. He�s just sleeping that�s all.�

Mum pulled us away and took us to see the monkeys. At the end of the concrete boulevard was a plastic mountain surrounded by a moat. The water was stagnant with empty Fanta cans floating in it. On top of the mountain were hundreds of monkeys, scrawny and muddy, with long tails and bright pink arses. Some of them were playing with each other, chasing each other around; others were pacing and swaying from side to side.

�Mum, what�s that big monkey at the top doing?�

Mum laughed and twisted my head as Jessie burst out laughing pointing towards him.

�Look, Meg! That one�s doing it as well!�

We watched in awe as the male monkeys started pulling their plonkers in unison at the crowd. All the kids laughed as their parents tutted, pulling their offspring away from the sideshow.

�Girls. That�s enough now. Stop laughing. You�re only drawing attention to yourselves��

Mum was trying not to laugh too, and I could see her trying to resort to discipline when in fact, tears of laughter were rolling down her cheeks. My Mum made me laugh more than anyone in the world. Her big boobs started shaking as she tried to hold in her pee.

�Come along you two, we�ll go to Fort William before we head home.�

We skipped along the paths, towards a wooden play fort that had hundreds of kids running around, playing on swings, and climbing the towers. Jessie was gymnastic and managed a double cartwheel through the gates to the sandpits. I stood and watched with Mum as she scrambled through a big metal tunnel.

�Come on Meg! Let�s go exploring?�

�Erm. No. I�ll just stay here with Mum.�

I had no sense of adventure. It seemed much more fun to stay and watch than get my knees dirty or even try to do a handstand and fall flat on my arse. I had no desire for public humiliation.

�Go on, go and play love. What�s stopping you�?� Mum tried to encourage me out of my shell. But I was feeling too self conscious to play on the swing tyres that hung from the rafters.

After a few minutes I plucked up the courage to walk around the fort. I was wearing a pair of flannelette shorts and a t-shirt with bright pink fishes on it. I had one neon yellow sock, and one in orange. My shoes were plastic and the height of bad fashion.

As I walked up the stairs to the top fort, I realised that the only way out was to walk along a tightrope from one tower to the next. There were ten kids behind me shouting to get a move on. A big fat girl in front of me had nearly made it all the way across. The sandpit below was 10 feet down. I suddenly realised that was I was too high up, but at this point there was no turning back.

There were two ropes on either side to hold onto. I had no choice. I started to walk across the tightrope clinging on desperately, walking slowly as I could. Mum was sat in the corner waving at me�

And before I could blink I was half way across, proving my courage and sweating with fear. And then it happened. The big girl in front of me got off the tightrope, and the rope wobbled. And someone behind stood on the rope. And I lost my balance. The rope shook, and I fell, face down into the sandpit below. But the sandpit wasn�t a proper sandpit. It had one inch of sand in it. I landed nose first. Crack.

When I came round I was covered in blood. Mum and Jessie were leant over me; Mum gave me a hug and told me I was going to be ok. She carried me through to St.John�s Ambulance where the woman told me I hadn�t done any damage. We were relieved, and despite my black eyes I knew that my nose had almost saved my face.

What the nurse didn�t tell me or my Mum was that I had actually broken my nose. Six weeks later, after nosebleeds every day, the doctor stuck a burning rod in the inside of my nostril. He told me I had broken my nose, it had healed up though. So if I wanted it repaired, they would break it again, or I could just put up with it like that until I was old enough to have plastic surgery.

It was nice to know that when I was 18, I could at least have a perfect upturned nose, even a Californian one at no cost to myself. One day I would be a beautiful butterfly. That night I walked home from the Doctor�s Surgery, thinking about what my new face would look like. And how I might have breasts like the sun tanned girls on Beverly Hills 90210. I would be plastic and proud, with bleached white hair, long acrylic nails and would drive a Ferrari. All the boys would fancy me. I would have hundreds of friends and be the envy of Helen Conway.

I lay on the bed in my Laura Ashley bedroom, staring at the ceiling and batting the light rope that hung over my pillows. I felt a small pain in the bottom of my belly. A few minutes later it happened again, I went to the toilet and found a speckle of blood in my white cotton pants. I cried. And then wondered how I would manage to hide it. So I made a little pile of toilet paper and shoved it in my pants. That will do nicely I thought, Mum will never find out.

And so it continued for three days, until Mum was hanging out the washing with Jessie in the garden. I was folding my sister�s clothes into neat square piles in the wicker basket holder.

�Megan. Have you started? There�s blood on this underwear...�

I went bright red, blubbed, and ran up to my bedroom. Mum followed.

�You know its okay, there�s nothing to be ashamed of. It�s just a part of life. You�re growing up now. You don�t need to be upset. Life is brutal sometimes. You just have to deal with it. Be a big girl and don�t cry. You�re not the first and you won�t be the last��

�But Mum, I don�t want to have a period.�

�Why didn�t you tell me before? I could have given you some things to make it better?�

�Because I didn�t want anyone to know. I thought you�d shout at me.�

Mum gave me a big hug and brought a pile of Lil-Lets and towels from her bedroom.

�Well the only advice I can give you is to use tampons. It�s easy once you know how.�

I went into the bathroom and tried to squeeze a tampon between my legs. I looked at the diagram. It hurt really badly. And I waddled downstairs and tried to sit on the sofa. Mum gave me a tin of Vaseline and told me to go and try again. No luck.

As I fell asleep with a nappy towel between my legs, and a cluster of blood in my left nostril, I realised it was a special day. At the age of nine I was finally a real woman.

� Megan Hall
Reproduced with permission

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