When I was a little girl, I didn’t enjoy playing with dolls, but I could hit a whiffle ball before I went to kindergarten. Instead of playing house with the neighborhood girls, I played ball with their brothers. My makeup of choice was eye-black swiped across my checks to cut the glare when catching flyballs. Instead of ballet slippers, I preferred baseball cleats. I was the prototypical tomboy.
I became a good softball player. I tried out for, and made, the varsity squad in my freshman year.
Shower time was intimidating that first year on the team. Here I was, a 5’-6”, and not yet fully developed sixteen-year-old standing shoulder to shoulder, naked, next to eighteen-year-old seniors who were full grown women in every sense of the term. Thankfully, because of my ability on the field, I was not an outcast, but any insecurities I might have had about my body were heightened by my itty-bitty titties next to some boobs that were already so big their nipples pointed to the floor.
I was a non-participant when it came to their shower talks. I kept to myself and just listened. While the others soaped themselves up, and sometimes each other, their conversations were always centered on boys. Who were the hot ones, which ones would they fuck, which ones did they already fuck, which ones would they only fuck on a dare? They were quick to compare their latest conquests, which guys had the bigger dicks, who came too soon, it just went on and on. I focused on every word, wondering what it would be like to be able to interject my stories and be accepted into their circle. Not that I wasn’t interested in boys, but there wasn’t anyone in particular I liked, and most days, I just preferred to play ball.