I started shaving at 15. I was in so much pain, but no-one was talking about it. They were walking around like nothing was wrong. I was walking around like there was a fucking thistle stuck up my groin.
SO FUCKING ITCHY.
I assumed everyone except me had angel hair until I got a little older and began talking about it with other girls. Turns out everyone was cringing trying not to cry in public.
This pattern of feeling alone in dealing with something – emotional or physical – seems to repeat its self consistently. But at some point, whether we find ourselves reading something, talking to someone or listening to a song, we feel a little less isolated about our ‘weird issue’. I don’t think this sequence will ever end, the topics will just change. But in amongst it all, I am comforted everyday by the knowing that I wasn’t the only 15 year old holding back tears with every step.