The Adventures of Hormone Girl – Chapter Three

I should have known something was wrong.

Chapter Two was written way back in May. Hormone Girl has been lying low. I should have known. Known that when she did make an appearance it would not be pretty.

Hormone Girl is back. In full force. And ya’ll? It. Is. Ugly.

This entire week has been filled with tears.

In fact, Miss V and I had to seek refuge in my room one night earlier this week and give her the entire run of the house.

So we’ve all been a little on edge. Tiptoeing around Hormone Girl a bit.

Last night I thought I was getting a jump on creating a tear free morning, since today was “dress up day” at HG’s school. HG was going to be “a formal apology”. Dressed up formally with a sign around her neck that says, “I’m sorry.” Funny, right? We thought so.

Did you try on the skirt for your costume?

Yes.

Okay, so after you get out of the shower, print your sign and we will fix a ribbon around it to hang on your neck.

Okay.

Sign gets printed, we fix it. Everyone goes to bed. We are getting a jump on this thing, right? Wrong.

This morning.

I can’t find the skirt.

It’s in your closet.

What? There’s no skirt in my closet.

I thought you said you tried it on.

Side note: I never really got to the bottom of which skirt she actually tried on, but I’m thinking she didn’t. The lies have begun. Sigh.

Well, it’s not in my closet. There’s no skirt in my closet!

Yes, there is. Let me show you.

Oh. Well, that skirt is long. I don’t want to wear a long skirt.

Hmmm. Well, it’s the only one we have that is formal. Your costume doesn’t really work if you’re not in formal wear.

Where’s my other dress?

What dress?

The only one I have.

It’s dirty. And it’s super casual. That won’t work.

Well, it’s dressy to the kids in my school.

*huge sigh*

It’s dirty. So we need to go with Plan B.

I’m not wearing that skirt. I don’t want to wear a skirt.

But, you’ll wear that dress?

Whatever. I hate skirts.

So, you’d better pick another costume.

I will! Just leave me alone.

I leave. Door slams. She comes out. Does something. Sobs. Goes back in. Door slams again.

Of course, I go in.

What is wrong now?

I don’t have any clean bras.

At least I’m pretty sure this was what was said through the sobs. I got her a clean bra, leave her room.

Door immediately slams behind me.

And here is where I admit I was not having a stellar parenting morning. Because what do you think I did next? I went to her room, opened her door and slammed it. Of course. Because that was the super mature thing to do.

But you know what? It made me feel better.

So I told HG that I was taking Miss V to school and she’d better be ready in ten minutes when I came back to get her.

When I got back to the house and honked, she came out very quickly. Wearing jeans and a cute top. Holding a Seventeen magazine and her old phone.

So, what are you going as?

A teenager.

Okay then.

I know that I used to be one, but I really, really, don’t understand twelve year old girls.