Sunday, 25 October 2015

The Darling Buds Of Me...*chapter two*

Chapter Two:

'The Darling Buds Of Me'

That year, other 11 year old classmates joined Sarah Edmondson in the flaunting of their fallopians!

My envy festered like a gangrenous verruca. And then, one break time, I was approached by Andrea Leary whom, I soon discovered, was equally as appalled by the blatant display of fertility corrupting the barren landscape of our playground.

By the end of that week, two more menstrual envy-ists had joined our padless coven and further mutual disgruntlements were unearthed. It had been noted that members of the Dr White fan club had something else in common, other than their monthly exhibition.

Many had taken to wearing bras, annoyingly due to necessity! Myself and the other three members of the flat-chested society, shifted uncomfortably in our school shirts, each furtively glancing at the others vest, the outline of which was embarrassingly apparent through the thin material!

Another noteworthy point was the fact that many of the boys in the class no longer dismissed these girls or treated them with the disdain they usually applied, favouring instead to display strange, lingering looks and coy twitches whenever in the vicinity of such sirens!

Meanwhile, for us, the Vest-still Virgins, our insignificance remained intact!

Something had to be done!

Karen Molyneux had an idea!

Karen's mum worked in the local greengrocers. Sometimes, on a Saturday, if Karen's dad was working either at the factory or on a large hangover, Karen would have to accompany her mum to work. Left to her own devices in the store room, Karen had often entertained herself by toying with the polystyrene inserts which would hold the apples and oranges in place whilst in transit. These little half spheres would be our saviour! Or so we thought.

They were the perfect shape and size to stuff into our vests in order to feign breasts. The flux may as yet be evading us but thanks to these fruit holders...we could certainly give thanks for the mammaries!

And then the fourth member of our pre-menstrual mob, Alison Bailey, piped up.


The rest of us looked at the other and then, in unison, at her.

"What about it?" I said.

"Maureen Nobblet says that if you rub Germolene on them they'll grow quicker"


Followed by trickles of cautious laughter.

"Hmph...Maureen Noblett?? What does SHE know, she's only ten! Who'd try that?" I scoffed, secretly arching a curious brow. The others joined in "Yeah, who'd try that!".

As it turned out, the answer!

I was staying at my grans and before I went to bed, I sneaked the Germolene tin from the drawer where it sat amidst all kinds of interesting and diverse paraphernalia which I frequently enjoyed rooting through until caught and cautioned, and stuffed it into my pocket.

That done I then sped off to the bedroom I shared with my gran. Like home, there was no bathroom here either, just the outside loo, so I had to hurry up and do the deed before gran could catch me and ask embarrassing questions.

I applied it liberally, rushed into my pj's and instantly fell into a deep sleep to dream of the huge breasts I was certain to wake up with the following morning.

The dream was nothing like the reality!

The acute stench of antiseptic woke me up! It was apparent that I had marinated myself in the stuff! Indeed, I wasn't just wearing Germolene...I had BECOME Germolene.....and not a flowering bud of a bosom to show for it!!

I managed to dodge gran, who'd been up early preparing breakfast, and get to the kitchen sink ( the only sink we had in the entire house ) where a fevered attempt to remove the pungent odour proved futile. Defeated, I then scuttled off to the breakfast table where gran passed me a hearty serving of porridge, accompanied by an analytical eye which she used to silently scan the cagey looking kid sitting before her.

She said nothing.

I hoped she knew nothing.

I went to school.

They knew everything!.

My three fellow conspirators greeted me in the playground, their twitching nostrils reacting to the Germolene vapours which enveloped me. I just hoped the rising heat of my shame wouldn't cause it to ignite!

And as the school bell summoned each of us to our lessons, it was with leaden steps I dragged myself to class but not without noting the creeping smirk spreading across the carbolically cleansed contours of Maureen Noblett's face as I wafted passed her.

I was not the only one to embark upon the walk of shame that day. An embarrassed Karen Molyneux sobbed into her 'free milk' bottle when, in her attempt to retrieve it from the crate at the front of the class, her left breast shifted position to drift casually down the vest she wore beneath her shirt, to settle proudly just above the waistband of her skirt.

We were both changed people that day.

It would be a further two years before mother nature deigned to visit me.

It would take but moments in her presence to realise...we were never going to get on!!

To be continued:

Next time: Chapter Three: 'Thar She Blows'

© Copyright Lynn Gerrard