It is a truth universally acknowledged that a prepubescent girl in possession of The Care And Keeping Of You must be in want of boobs. God, I desperately wanted boobs when I was in fifth grade. But alas, I would compare my mosquito bites to the infographic amongst its pages and sigh with disappointment. Ah, girlhood!
This enduring classic tells the tale of several young ladies who are truly going through it. “It” being puberty, of course. Sure, they carried a whole generation on their back by teaching us about our bodies when nobody’s parents wanted to take on the task. And yet, while these goody-goodies were perfecting their dental hygiene routines for our benefit, their peers were making out under the bleachers and stealing Tito’s from their dad’s liquor cabinet. Sure, they were modeling training bras as pre-teens, but that didn’t earn them cool kid points at school. Maybe if they stole a Victoria’s Secret thong or two, I’d be impressed.
These girlbosses were too busy plotting the next wave of feminism to get intimate with their crushes. They were single-handedly saving us the shame of asking our mothers how TF do I use a tampon — and yet, couldn’t talk to boys. That’s how I know The Care And Keeping Of You girlies were absolutely late bloomers. The book is roughly 27 years old now, so let’s check in with how the girlies are holding up in their 20s.
Despite being exhaustingly detail-oriented, I just know they were not shaving above the knee. (I mean, “That’s an awful lot of leg to shave” is a direct quote.) Their moms may have told them that no one can tell, but at least one of them absolutely carries a scarring memory of her crush pointing at her hairy thighs in the middle of the national anthem. It took a good ten years for girlie-pop to wear denim shorts again in public, and that was after a lot of laser hair removal. The others may have overcorrected by moving to Brooklyn, becoming baristas, and taking pride in their armpit hair — which was all fine and dandy until a customer complained about hair in their oat milk dirty chai.
What’s scarier than going bra shopping for the first time? Playing the pencil test at sleepovers. The pencil test is simple: put a pencil under your boob and see if your boob can hold it up. A rite of passage that many of us didn’t pass. There was no real winner of the challenge because if the pencil didn’t fall down, your boobs were considered “sagging” and, therefore, past their prime (lol). But if the pencil did fall down, you were marked as flat-chested. Clearly, these besties never participated in such a degrading exercise, but that’s also why they weren’t invited back for a round of spin the bottle. Having strong values doesn’t sound so fun now, does it?! Thankfully being welcomed at house parties wasn’t high up on their list of priorities, which is why most of them went to an Ivy League school and are in crippling debt. They’re now doomed to say shit like, “Another glass on a school night? I’m so bad.”
You just know this betch had a full glow-up post-college after being cyberbullied within an inch of her life. Once she stopped getting bowl cuts and the braces were removed, all it took was several thousands of dollars in cosmetic enhancements to heal her inner child. She still posts her Facetuned photos on Instagram with hashtags #loveyourself. Her DMs are full of boys she went to high school with though, which is some sort of victory, I guess?
After her mom bought her a copy of The Manners Guide for Girls from the American Girl Library, she built her entire personality around perfecting the art of hosting. And by that, I mean she invests full paychecks into candles. She also takes a high dosage of Lexapro for her severe social anxiety after trying to throw a “chill game night” that ended with her calling her mom crying. You’re never too old for your mom, ladies.
Anyone who owned a gilded hand mirror at the ripe age of 12 should’ve known low-maintenance would never be in her vocabulary. Her early obsession with beauty routines led her to become the 30-step-skincare-routine Insta girl you hate to follow. She may have dealt with ruthless nicknames like Pepperoni Face or Zitney Spears, but she’s completely blocked out those memories thanks to her nightly weed habit. (It’s called microdosing!!!) We love a queen who prioritizes her largest organ. It now only takes her three hours to get ready for bed.
