Growing Up As a Girl

By: Frankie Baxter 🕊

Let me snivel and sob whilst trying to drag the brush I stuck gems on through my matted mass of hair. 

Every doodle needs to have a sun in the top left corner. 

Every teddy is ready to be tucked in for a night of stars with a kiss on its sewed nose. 

Let me memorise songs and stories and pictures and figure out my feelings, let me put them in piles and watch them topple and drop onto each day, let me cram silver rings onto my fingers and leave loops of greeny-grey

Each finger swells, red and sore. 

Each day is a lot.

Sore breasts, tummy and bloody knickers

Surely I am too young for all of these adult things

Let me pretend to sleep in this corner 

It’s only custom at this age to be angry at it all, and recreate yourself each morning 

One day I’ll figure out who I am 

Let me hold hands with my friends, silently we all feel the same

And now time is flowing faster and life feels a lot more orange 

Friends feel less like children and we all lie down and look up at the blue sea that looms above us

Captains of our futures, we sit individually in boats that travel to unfamiliar lands 

We’re about to lose everything we took so long to understand

I don’t care about lip balm anymore, or about what I am meant to wear. 

I wish someone had told me so long ago that none of that really mattered

We need to braid our lives together in plaits 

And make daisy chains of memories instead of wishing for time to run faster

I’m still that little girl standing on the rocks in my special silver sandals, blue-splotched frock and favourite hair band, preparing to face it all. 

As the waves are washed back and forth on the beach, we prepare to sail towards the sun. 

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About the Author

Frankie is an Art, English and Spanish student who has always loved writing. “My work usually has themes of feminism, nostalgia, love (with a twist) and I like to try out new genres!”