Wednesday January 24th

Another bloody awful night when I had to take the baby again. Wish my sister would get her act together and start looking after it like she’s supposed to.

Am absolutely determined never to have a baby. Have heard lots of horror stories about condoms splitting so I’ve decided to go on the pill as well just to make totally and completely sure I don’t get pregnant when I eventually do it with Chris. (It’s what Dad would call ‘belts and braces’ if I ever told him about it, perish the thought.) However, am not quite sure how to go about this. I know I’ll have to ask a doctor and Liz says they can’t tell my mum about it, but what will I say? Even if I go to Dr Curtis, the woman doctor at our practice, it will be so embarrassing basically admitting that I’m going to have sex.

Stephanie says I’m mad but if I feel that way about it I could just say I’ve got irregular periods as they prescribe the pill for that as well, but I don’t have irregular periods and I’m sure they’d know I was lying.

Liz says that I could tell them I’m suicidally depressed about my spots and that I need the pill for that. Now she tells me! Maybe Liz is wrong and there is a God after all. A contraceptive pill that also gets rid of spots. Will fix up an appointment straight after I finish these Prelims.

Monday January 29th

When I rang the surgery the nosy receptionist asked what it was about. Told her it was personal, private and confidential. Cheeky thing said if it’s head lice I didn’t need to see the doctor and could get the treatment free at the pharmacist. Told her quite snootily that I would require to see my general practitioner, thanks, and that, yes, it was urgent (Stephanie has told me I have to be on it for two weeks before Valentine’s day).

Tuesday January 30th

Don’t believe it. The one day I really want to have spots and I’ve practically none. Just one tiny spot on my chin. I can hardly say I’m ready to top myself over that. Thought about painting some fake ones on but I suppose with all that training and experience the doctor will probably be able to tell. I’ll just have to tell her the real reason I want a prescription.

Sat in the doctor’s waiting room trying to work up that courage to go in. Told myself this was stupid. I was practically an adult, after all. I was over the legal age for sex and no one could stop me doing it if I wanted to. I had as much right as anyone else to get the pill and I’d absolutely no reason to be embarrassed about it. I would just have to be totally calm, sophisticated and assertive; just as Liz had advised me.

It was my turn. Went into the room marked DR CURTIS. She smiled pleasantly at me, told me to take a seat then asked, ‘How can I help you, Kelly Ann?’

I blurted out, ‘I want to have sex.’

Dr Curtis raised her eyebrows but said calmly, ‘Not right now, I presume, Kelly Ann. I hope you don’t mean right at this very moment in my consulting room.’

I ploughed on. ‘You can’t stop me. I am absolutely determined to do it. I really, really want it.’

Dr Curtis smiled at me and I felt my face flush scarlet as I realized I must have sounded totally mental, like some mad nymphomaniac. She was probably going to refer me to a psychiatric institution, where I would be sectioned and forced to spend the whole of the rest of my life in a padded room eating mushy food with plastic cutlery.

However, she just took my blood pressure then printed out a prescription for the pill along with instructions for using it. As I was leaving she said, ‘Your boyfriend is a very lucky lad, Kelly Ann, to have such an enthusiastic, indeed positively eager partner.’

Wednesday January 31st

Am mortified by my stupid carry-on at the doctor’s. Liz and Stephanie nearly wet themselves laughing when I told them. Stephanie says I’m mad. She says everyone is totally cool about contraception now. It’s seen as just a normal bit of shopping. Responsible too.

Even so, didn’t want to go to the local chemist, where everyone would know me, so took the bus into Argyle Street after school and went to Boots there.

Handed over my prescription to the pharmacist and resisted the urge to say it was for my spots or period problems. She just took it without any fuss. She didn’t even give me a disapproving look, never mind ask any nosy questions or make remarks like ‘A bit young to be having sex, aren’t you, and does your mum know?’

Feeling quite grown up and sophisticated now, I decided to have a look at the condoms displayed on the shelves nearby while I was waiting for my prescription. Have never bought condoms before, of course, or taken a close interest in them really, so was amazed that there seemed to be so many different types – though none of them said what colour they were. Was determined not to get green ones like Gerry had bought last year when I almost but didn’t have sex with him. Feeling really cool and confident, I decided to ask the assistant nearby, who happened to be a guy not much older than me.

Picked up a packet at random and asked him if he knew what colour they were. He seemed a bit surprised but muttered something about their being normal colour, he supposed.

But was he absolutely sure? Had he used these ones himself? Could we take one out to look at it?

He flushed and muttered no, he didn’t think we could do that. He seemed really uncomfortable and I felt a bit sorry for him. Obviously, unlike me, he hadn’t got over the immature, silly stage of being embarrassed about stuff like this. I would show him by my example how totally grown up and sophisticated a young person should be.

I asked him which ones he used so I could be sure of the colour. He seemed totally taken aback by my frank and businesslike approach but managed to wave a hand in the general direction of one type, which I collected and showed to him just to make sure I’d got the right ones. So he was sure these were the ones he used, was he? And he could vouch for the fact that they were definitely not green?

He nodded mutely.

I turned the packet over and read out the blurb to him: ‘It says here that they are ultra fine and super sensitive. Also that they give maximum pleasure for both her and him.’ Could he confirm that? Would he recommend them? The assistant spluttered some strangled comment, which I took to mean something along the lines of: they were OK, considering. Would have questioned him further but my name was being called as my prescription was ready. In my new resolution of openness I paid for the condoms then told the assistant I would have to go as my contraceptive pills were ready for picking up.

It was marvellous to be free of all my stupid, immature inhibitions about talking about contraceptives and I strode confidently towards the exit, only to be met by the assistant, who asked for my phone number.

What a sleazer. I mean what kind of total slut did he think I was? And stupid as well. Like he really wanted my number for market research. Yeah, right. Market research my arse.

Have just taken my first pill. Just 13 more to go, then it will be V day!!

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