THE DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL : THE DEFINITIVE EDITION ... - Fidele

I've told you more about myself and my feelings than I've ever told a living soul,
so why shouldn't that include sex?
Parents, and people in general, are very peculiar when it comes to sex. Instead of
telling their sons and daughters everything at the age of twelve, they send the
children out of the room the moment the subject arises and leave them to find out
everything on their own. Later on, when parents notice that their children have,
somehow, come by their information, they assume they know more (or less) than they
actually do. So why don't they try to make amends by asking them what's what?
A major stumbling block for the adults -- though in my opinion it's no more than a
pebble -- is that they're afraid their children will no longer look upon marriage
as sacred and pure once they realize that, in most cases, this purity is a lot of
nonsense. As far as I'm concerned, it's not wrong for a man to bring a little
experience to a marriage. After all, it has nothing to do with the marriage
itself, does it?
Soon after I turned eleven, they told me about menstruation. But even then, I had
no idea where the blood came from or what it was for. When I was twelve and a
half, I learned some more from Jacque, who wasn't as ignorant as I was. My own
intuition told me what a man and a woman do when they're together; it seemed like
a crazy idea at first, but when Jacque confirmed it, I was proud of myself for
having figured it out!
It was also Jacque who told me that children didn't come out of their mother's
tummies. As she put it, "Where the ingredients go in is where the finished product
comes out!" Jacque and I found out about the hymen, and quite a few other details,
from a book on sex education. I also knew that you could keep from having
children, but how that worked inside your body remained a mystery. When I came
here, Father told me about prostitutes, etc., but all in all there are still
unanswered questions.
If mothers don't tell their children everything, they hear it in bits and pieces,
and that can't be right.
Even though it's Saturday, I'm not bored! That's because I've been up in the attic
with Peter. I sat there dreaming with my eyes closed, and it was wonderful.
Yours, Anne M. Frank
SUNDAY, MARCH 19, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
Yesterday was a very important day for me. After lunch everything was as usual. At
five I put on the potatoes, and Mother gave me some blood sausage to take to
Peter. I didn't want to at first, but I finally went. He wouldn't accept the
sausage, and I had the dreadful feel- ing it was still because of that argument
we'd had about distrust. Suddenly I couldn't bear it a moment longer and my eyes
filled with tears. Without another word, I re- turned the platter to Mother and
went to the bathroom to have a good cry. Afterward I decided to talk things out
with Peter. Before dinner the four of us were helping him with a crossword puzzle,
so I couldn't say anything. But as we were sitting down to eat, I whispered to
him, "Are you going to practice your shorthand tonight, Peter?"
"No," was his reply.