Clare and I both broke our hymens in our 11th year; strangely (and erotically) enough while we were doing sports. Those of you who know us will not find this surprising as we are supremely athletic characters.
Clare was at Gymnastics when she swung fanny first into what is known as the ‘uneven bars’. She bled and everything and her mum (ol’ Janet) saw her undies and prematurely gave her the period talk Judy Blume is so fond of. It would be another three years until Clare would actually reach womanhood, and ten years before she would begin to tell anyone and everyone about her myriad of obscene ‘ragtime tales’.
Then there’s me. I was playing soccer in the rain for the annual winter games (a fierce rivalry between the private girls’ schools of Perth involving games of soccer, netball and hockey where we’d battle TO THE DEATH or until 3pm, whichever came first). I had the ball (like that Indian girl from Bend it like Beckham and the hit show ER), I was running (dribbling?) with the ball when I slipped and fell heel-on-vagina. I was curled on the grass crying and the male umpire came up to me and asked me where it hurt and I said “my stomach?” I went home and had a bath which really stung my patooti. I didn’t tell my mum but she could tell I’d gone through a drastic change because she took me to Target and bought me some Spice Girl stationary.
So basically Clare lost her virginity to a gym bar and I lost mine to my own heel.
Ps. I think one of the most interesting (and wonderful) parts of the time I broke my hymen was that Clare was actually there at the winter games, we just didn’t know each other yet.
11 hours ago