Childlike Not Childish 童心永驻 I remember the day my best friend in sixth grade got a fake, removable gold cap for her tooth, the better to1) emulate2) the rappers3) we loved at the time. I couldn't believe her parents would buy it for her and let her wear it―it seemed so cool, and so grown-up. Plus, I knew she had to go into the city to get it, which added to its aura4) of sophisticated5) danger. I, meanwhile, was still watching cartoons on TV, and crocheting6) and knitting clothes for my dolls. Soon I noticed that my friend was starting to hang out7) with different people, and that she wasn'ing over as often after school to play kickball8) in my backyard. I now know that trying on new friends is just a natural part of growing up, but at the time I felt abandoned. Now that she was ready to be older, my friend was leaving me behind in Babyland. I felt like I was deficient9) in some way: abnormal, immature, childish. By ninth grade most of the girls in my class had cast aside their Barbies and sticker books in favor of high heels and lots of makeup, which made me nervous. I wasn't ready for that kind of self-sexualization―I would rather stay home and paint or watch . for the hundredth time than go to a dance or hang out in the park to look at th e cute boys I would see the next day in school anyway. There were a lot of things I looked forward to about being a teenager a
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