In his beautifully descriptive story, Hauptwerk (what does that name mean? Anyone know?) describes a young girl in the first flush of puberty and adolescence, and how she explores her body and sexual feelings through nudity. I applaud her, but not all girls do this.
Which is why I need to share with you Martha’s story. I knew Martha very well, and liked her a lot. She was quite unlike any other girl who I considered to be a close friend, but she had an amazingly sharp mind, and I loved her to pieces.
But when the hormones started circulating through her arterial route map, and boobs appeared, Martha took to walking around stooped, as if to hide them not only from us, but from herself. During her time of the month, she locked herself away socially, and wouldn’t even associate with us. One day, I discovered her in one of her hiding places, sitting on the floor, knees drawn up tightly to her chest and sobbing silently.
At first she asked me to go away, and when I wouldn’t she put it more forcefully with a sharp, “Fuck off.” But I’m made of sterner stuff…anyway Miss Brain was giving me signals that indicated she didn’t really want to be alone, so I sat next to her, initially saying nothing. Eventually, she leaned against me and her head flopped on my shoulder. I sneaked an arm round her and we just sat for a while. Words didn’t seem necessary at that point - certainly not from me!
Then, softly and gently, she started to talk. “Oh Anna….i hate it! I hate the boobs, the mess in my panties every fucking day, and this! Once a month! But….I also……hate how I feel.” For a moment, I thought she meant the cramps and backache that can accompany periods. Boy was I wrong!
I hate the feeling between my legs - like I want to play with myself all the time. I hate imagining boys…doing it to me….I hate wanting them to do it to me. I think about it all the time, it’s like I can’t get cock out of my head!” Sounds like a perfectly normal sex drive to me. I tentatively explored her views on having such feelings. Were they ‘sinful’ to her…or her mum and dad? I didn’t know much about them and for all I knew they could be Bible thumpers and Rosary rattlers of the worst possible kind.
But no….in fact she giggled a little when we got on to Sex Ed. as taught by celibate (allegedly) nuns. She hadn’t bought into that bullshit for a second. (“Sex, other than by way of the vagina is the Devil’s work, girls!” Well, that’s anal off the menu, but how about blow jobs, Sister?) “I just hate the power of the feelings - how they dominate me to the point that I have to….do…something about it.” Ah, so she does ‘do something’ then.
Over the next hour she told me, in a nutshell, that she feels horny all the time, and masturbates daily, period or no. After which she doesn’t feel guilty, rather furious that her body ‘made’ her do it. Oh, she loves the feeling of an orgasm, but she hates the fact her body ‘forces’ her to have one. She doesn’t like being out of control. She has yet to learn that the best sex is when you 100% surrender yourself to the feelings.
Being a girl is messy. Constant, daily vaginal wetness, made worse if you feel horny. Made worse still if you slip off for a quick cum, since you’ll be leaking for ages afterwards. And that’s before we get onto periods, and their unpredictability, (for some) their heaviness (again, for some) and the discomfort that goes with them. Hyper-sensitive tits, sometimes to the point of pain, backache, stomach cramps, nausea - sometimes actual vomiting for some girls. Then there’s the appalling horridness of smelly sanitary towels and claggy pubic hair, the discomfort and many false starts of trying to use tampons. (Frowned upon by nuns and heavy-duty, category one Catholics who fear their daughter exploring their vaginas - just in case they like it, or, horror of all horrors, break their own hymens with a tampon, thus denying her future husband his right to inflict pain and bleeding on his new bride.) And what happens if you don’t change a tampon when it’s needed. You can’t always get to a convenient bathroom. (Speaking of which, we had one nun for two terms who was an absolute, dyed-in-the-wool cunt to us. No excuse would make her let you out of her class. You were in there for an hour and a half, and there you would stay. Another girl asked for the pass once and was, typically, refused. She didn’t look at all well, and anyone could see she was poorly. She asked again - denied. So she calmly stood up, walked to the nearest radiator, and vomited into it. It stunk for weeks! One thing I loved about ‘ma girls’ was their strength of character. I would never have thought of puking in a radiator, but what a mark of protest!
One girl asked for the hall pass for the bathroom which was refused, naturally, this bitch-cunt nun made the girl admit she was on her period, and then said, “So you say! And how, may I ask, am I supposed to know that?” This was her stock answer until one day, I saw fire in the girl’s eyes and I knew she’d get the same answer. “So you say, yet how am I supposed to know that?” Without breaking eye contact, she reached up her kilt, into her panties and removed her tampon, thumping it down on the auld trout’s desk. “Does that convince you, Sister?” Oh yes, she was made to ‘scrub the virgin’ (cleaning a marble statue of Mary in the driveway with nuns’ old toothbrushes (which stunk on their own) for a month, but she made her point. That sister never opposed a bathroom request again.
Martha never did come to terms with the powerful sexual feelings she was having. She never learned to accept them or better still, revel in them. Part of it, I’m certain, was the ‘messiness’ of it all. Part, I’m equally sure, was that her feeling frightened her. It’s not something schools - certainly not nun-led Catholic schools talk to girls about. Oh, there’s nothing to say all nuns are virgins. There’s no requirement for them to be, but either a nun is, in which case she’s talking to you from a standpoint of inexperience, or she isn’t, in which case she talking to you from a standpoint of regret. In any case, never once were we talked to about ‘sex drive’. We all knew the mechanics of sex, and how to bring more little Catholics into the world, and God knows, we all knew the many thousands of ways we could “…make the Blessed Virgin weep” through impure thoughts and deeds.
I’m just saying it isn’t all sweetness and light for girls. Some simply can’t accept being horny.
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