Dying to be older, but stuck being twelve. 1979 was a rocky year for young Plain Jane.
Friday, 23 February 2007
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Writing about "grown-up" ideas like screwing. Trying to draw a picture of my ideal form. Can I say it again? Being a teenager was appallingly HARD!
January 13, 1979

At least it provides humor in retrospect.
Oh, and for the day I tell my family about this blog: Mom, I didn't "screw" when I was 11. But later at almost 18 I did "make it" with that guy you didn't like. Yeah, him.
Feels good to get that off my (finally developed) chest.

BWAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA!!!
You GO, Plain. These entries are great!
I'm loving these dips into your diary!!
I wish I could find mine.
Hysterical!!!!
Oh my. That's pretty racy for an eleven-year-old. I'm blushing. :)
It is hard to be a preteen. Really really hard.
You've inspired me. I might need to go out searching for my Garfield diary. It's in a box in my shed somewhere.
Yes, it's racy, but remember it is the INNER life of an 11 year old. I was the quintessential good girl on the outside.
My journals are a reminder to me that "kids today" are not exposed to more sex/drugs/violence than they used to be.
I always knew you were a big ol' slut! ;)
Does it count if I was a big ol' slut on the inside?
Awesome. My 11-year-old diary surely features similar startling announcements. I'm off to dig through boxes.
This is awesome. I admit I blushed when I read the entry, but only because I was wondering what I may have written at that age. Thankfully those entries are lost and gone forever, and the only diary I have now starts at about age 16.
What impresses me the most is your use of "shit" in your diary. Either you were damn sure your parents or, worse, your siblings wouldn't find it or you had a death wish. Although I guess it was just more of a sex wish.
Patty, growing up in a family of writers, no one would ever have admitted reading someone else's diary. Well, no adult. My step-sister and I read each other's all the time, and fought constantly about that too.
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