From a Girl to a Woman

Proud woman
I was probably thirteen or fourteen years old when my mother came home from work one evening with a shopping bag which she gave to me. Excitedly I dug into the bag and retrieved a beautiful full length body hugging skirt and a classy pink three-quarter-sleeved top. I ran up to my room and slid into this outfit at the speed of light. It’s a wonder the outfit lived to see another day-a few years, if we’re being touchy feely. I felt amazing in this figure hugging outfit. It was not figure hugging in a slutty kind of way. I stood in front of my mirror and posed and smiled, admiring myself from different angles. I felt like royalty. I imagined myself walking down a street, paparazzi surrounding me, me warmly smiling here and waving ever-so-delicately there.
Oh how this outfit made me feel different, so mature, almost like an entirely different person. It defined my body like an hourglass. I felt sophisticated and hot. It was nothing like those Cinderella ballerina dresses I had worn since childhood. Do kids even wear those dresses these days? It’s either I don’t pay attention to kids (which is sad since some kids can actually be adorable) or children now wear more normal clothing. When my mom bought me that dress I doubt she had anything more in mind other than getting her daughter a great outfit to wear to church. As I stood in front of my full length mirror, the image that stared back at me was not that of a child in a checkered red and black layered dress but of a young woman with a fine shapely body. That was the day that I first saw myself as a woman. It was a beautiful moment, a phenomenal revelation.
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