𝙱𝚊𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎| 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫

LXXXVI

December, 1980

From the age of about- I'd say, ten or eleven- I hated my birthday. I hated getting older, I wanted to be a teenage girl forever. Sure, there were a few flaws of having a birthday like getting a fuck-load of money, everyone running around trying to please you.

But then the day was done, the decorations got pulled down and everybody stopped giving a fuck and pretending that you're special just because you came out of a vagina however many Years ago.

I didn't see the point of it. It was just another day, but with people repeating the same annoying phrase and giving you money or attempting to throw you a big fuck-off-party that you didn't ask for.

The only time I did have a party was for my fifth. Or sixth, I can't exactly remember. My dad got drunk, he and my mum kept arguing and Katie had to get rushed to the hospital because she took one of my dad's pills when he was too occupied having a pathetic argument with my mum.

I didn't really like my birthday that much. But I already knew that Freddie was planning some party for me. I just hope it won't be as... Eventful as my nineteenth.

"I hate my birthday." Morgan said, absentmindedly as she looked in her tea.
"I think we all do." Raven added.
"My parties were fun when we were thirteen and stuff but it's not as exciting now." Willow shrugged, taking a sip of her tea.
"Why? Because we can actually legally drink and smoke now?" I asked, causing us all to chuckle.
"Pretty much." Willow answered, with a short laugh.

"Oh well, at least I can drink the night away- nevermind." I groaned, remembering that I still had nearly six months before I can get ahold of my vodka. "It must suck to be pregnant." Morgan said, half-sympathetically.

"It does. Kinda." I answered truthfully. Most pregnant women will say it'll all be worth it and how wonderful the pregnancy experience really is. They're lying. I mean some parts of it are alright like being able to talk yourself (the baby) without looking like a mental patient, no periods, etcetera. But the nausea, stomach aches, backaches and the rest are fucking annoying.

"Just think of it as another party but with cake and no drink." Morgan tried to help. "How depressing. Apart from the cake." I said, all of us laughing slightly.

"What are you wearing for it?" Raven asked me, as she played with one of my curls, as I scoffed.
"I don't even know! Hardly any of my clothes fit me and I'm only three months far!" I exclaimed, in irritation. My bump was becoming more and more noticeable every day and I hardly have any clothes that I can get into anymore.

"Haven't you bought any maternity clothes yet?" Willow asked me, as I shook my head 'no'.
"I hate maternity clothes. They're hardly flattering." I sighed, resting my hand on my abdomen.

"I don't know. This ones kinda cute." Raven pointed out, as she flipped through one of my maternity catalogues that I bought.
"What one?" I asked, looking up at her, as she flipped the catalogue over, displaying a pregnant woman wearing a white top and denim overalls.

"It's okay. But I can't exactly wear that to a party." I sighed.
"Fuck the maternity clothes. I'm wearing the tightest and sluttiest outfit I own." I said, nonchalantly, as Raven just laughed, continuing to flip through the catalogue.

꧁꧂

It was almost time to go to the party. Examining myself in the mirror, as I wore a cream-white-coloured, bell-sleeved, smocked dress, that reached just above my knees, with brown converse, My hair was down and loose, past my shoulders, and for my makeup I just wore blue eyeshadow and a peach lipgloss.