10:00 a.m.
Dad had Uncle Eddie round, so naturally they had to come and see what I was up to. If Uncle Eddie (who is bald as a coot) says to me one more time, "Should bald heads be buttered?" I may kill myself. He doesn't seem to realize that I no longer wear romper suits. I feel like yelling at him, "I am fourteen years old, Uncle Eddie! I am bursting with womanhood, I wear a bra! OK, it's a bit on the loose side and does ride up round my neck if I run for the bus...but the womanly potential is there, you bald coot!"

Talking of breasts, I'm worried that I may end up like the rest of the women in my family, with just one bust, like a sort of shelf affair.

- Georgia

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