Dragonfly

Chapter Eleven: Ch-ch-changes

One of the biggest drawbacks to living my life out a second time was the one most unfortunate thing that came with being a female-puberty. At least, I never saw it as something pleasant. Hell, who does like it? The monthly visitor was a huge pain-completely literal there-and then there was all of the developing involved in the matter. The hips, I could handle, but the breasts...? Just something else to weigh me down. Judging by Emiko's size, and my love for sugary and sweet, unhealthy things, I wouldn't be lucky enough to be small in that area.

If I had everything the way I wanted it, puberty could have been pushed off until I was fifteen or so, but nope. Mother Nature had other ideas.

And Emiko was more than happy to take me shopping for new unmentionables and feminine products-even if I completely rejected the idea and claimed I could do it all on my own. Hell, actually, I never even shopped for this kind of stuff with my original mother! She just bought it all for me and brought it home once she knew my sizes! Until I was old enough to do it all myself, anyway. I just knew Emiko was going to be naggy and doting and make the whole situation even more awkward than it already was.

At least it was only the initial phase of it all that was so embarrassing. After a while, it would become something routine; hardly something to bat an eyelash at, much less blush at. If Emiko butted out of that aspect of my life and let me be, at least.

I was pretty sure she'd already bragged to her circle of housewives and mothers that her "little Rika has begun to blossom" and wasn't that just disgusting? Here I thought I did a pretty good job of humiliating myself before she had to go and get involved in my adolescent life.

She should be happy I didn't dig around in her underwear drawer and run around with her bra on my head anymore-but the idea was tempting, for payback.

"Rika, dear, a brassiere does not go on the outside of your clothes. Please put it on properly."

Giving her a hard time was worth it, though. "I dunno, it looks kinda cool don't you think?" I spun around in front of the clothing shop's mirror and tugged at the straps of the cute, light-peach colored training bra strapped firmly across my deep-plum colored Uchiha shirt like a bizarre superhero costume. "Full support!"

She just barely resisted the urge to slap her hand to her forehead-I could tell by the violent eye twitch. "It's improper and you know it. Please try it on correctly so we can find out if it fits!"

"Aw, Mom, but-"

"If you don't behave, I'll make you wear it home like that."

"Can't I just wear sports bras? Underwire sucks!" I groaned, reaching around to unhook the damn thing-and letting Emiko help when I couldn't do it myself because I had T-rex arms or something. "Back clasps suck, too. I want something manageable."

She leaned back and sighed wearily before holding up about fifty other various, lacy, brightly-colored, polka-dotted bras on those tiny useless hangers that displayed them. "But-look, Rika, these are so cute!" she fawned, and I swear there were hearts in her eyes. And a bit of jealousy-bras her size didn't come with cute patterns and were only ugly shades of blah and bland. In a way, she was living vicariously through me, I guess.

"No one's gonna see them but me, though!"

"Oh-just go try them on!" She shoved the pile of undergarments into my arms and pushed me back into the small changing room without allowing room for further argument.

"Doesn't fit," I mumbled blandly, throwing one of the bras over the top of the flimsy curtain-doorway for Emiko to catch, followed by a handful of others. "Neither does this one! Or this one! Or this one, or-"