‘They’re childish,’ I told my mother when she asked why I was throwing things out. I told her about my first period.
‘Mm,’ she responded, snorting small streams of smoke from her nostrils. Strangely, she asked me no questions about what I had done or whether I had bought the correct things at the chemist or even if someone had taken me to a chemist.
I looked at my horse posters on the wall and began to tear some of them down. In the end, I couldn’t part with two favourite posters so I left them there, but I never quite felt the attachment to them I once had. They were part of an era in which I no longer lived. Pictures of pop stars went out too. Bernadette Brennan didn’t have pictures of pop stars in her room. She had bottles of perfume and tubes of lipstick, powder compacts, nail polish
