Submitted by megan on Tue, 07/20/2010 - 16:52
The first time I remember being attracted to a girl, I must have been 9 or 10. I was taken for a boy quite often in those pre-pubescent years. I couldn't tell you why exactly, except that I often had some kind of terrible bowl cut and blue has always been my favourite colour.
My family was at a mall - Upper Canada, I believe, though it might have been the newly opened Promenade - and I saw this girl across the fountain.
I couldn't stop staring at her.
She preened, tilted her head this way and that. She readjusted her purse strap so that it crossed from shoulder to hip and emphasized her new breasts.
I couldn't stop staring.
And then her friend leaned over. Whispered something in her ear. They both looked at me; hard, near angry. The girl who fascinated me hung her purse from her shoulder again and they both turned their backs on me.
Instinctively I knew what had been whispered was a snarly "That's a girl!" Maybe it wasn't, maybe I was wrong. But the look of shame on that young girl's face made me know I had done - had felt - something even worse.