Free Fierce by Kelly Osbourne Page A

peace and paid for him to be put into a care home in LA after he became too ill to look after himself.
    When he died in 2008 I didn’t feel anything except confusion, because I didn’t expect my mum to be so upset. It hit her hard. I think it made her realise that it’s not always worth shutting people out of your life for so long over arguments in the past.

    I WAS fourteen and I’d not started my period. I wasn’t bothered. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to get my period. I just didn’t want to have blood coming out of my vagina once a month. By this point we’d moved out of the Beverly Hills Hotel and into 906 North Beverly Drive.
    It was a detached house behind big black gates with a balcony at the front. I wouldn’t say it was one of those massive, massive houses, but it was cool. It wasn’t far from school and all the places we liked to hang out.
    One night, at around 9 p.m. I was sitting in my bedroom when I started to get the most God-awful stomach ache.
    I walked across the hallway from my bedroom and into my parents’ room to tell my mum. She was sitting on the edge of her bed and she said, ‘Kelly, you’re just making it up because you don’t want to go to school tomorrow.’
    I was pleading, ‘No, Mum. My stomach really does hurt.’
    But she replied in her deep I’m-not-taking-any-shit voice, ‘Kelly, go to bed. If you don’t go to bed, that’s it!’
    I was like, ‘All right. Calm down. Whatever.’
    I woke up the next morning and went for my morning wee in the en suite bathroom. I’m not joking, I looked down into my knickers and thought I had shat myself in my sleep. I went running into Mum’s room crying and screaming. She told me to calm down and said she would come with me to the toilet to try and sort it out. She took one look and said, ‘No, you idiot, you’ve got your period. You’re a woman now.’
    I looked at her, sat on the floor, and started crying again. I couldn’t stop. I thought, ‘So what to being a woman if this is what happens.’
    I stood up, grabbed my mum’s hands and said, ‘Don’t you dare tell anyone. You must not tell anyone. Promise me you won’t tell?’ My mum showed me what I had to do with the sanitary towels and I stood there next to her in the bathroom shuddering and saying, ‘Oh, Mum. Please shut up. This is so gross.’
    The only good thing about getting my period was that Mum did let me have the day off. Not all of my friends were allowed to have the day off. My mum felt sorry for me because I couldn’t stop crying.
    About an hour later, I walked to my mum’s room to ask another question about sanitary towels and my dad was standing at the doorway.
    He greeted me with, ‘Oh, my little girl is a woman now.’
    To say I was mortified is an understatement. I just flopped on my parents’ bed and cried. It wasn’t because I was thinking, ‘Oh the joy of being a woman.’ It was more like, ‘Mum, I can’t believe you told Dad. You arsehole.’

CHAPTER FIVE

BEAUTY – YOU’LL HAVE YOUR DAY
    Who wants to look like everyone else?
    B EING so close to my brother Jack and also spending my childhood on the road with a bunch of guys meant I’d not really explored my feminine side as much as other girls my age. Getting my period made me think for the first time – but not in a cheesy way – ‘Yeah, I’m a woman.’
    Spending my teenage years in Los Angeles could be absolute agony at times. I was surrounded by all these gorgeous people who were constantly obsessed with their appearance. LA is about one thing only: perfection. Your face has to look incredible and your make-up immaculate. You’re frowned upon if you’re not near-to-death skinny and carrying the latest designer handbag.
    There are places everywhere geared for plucking, preening, plumping … Everyone spends shit-loads on their appearance, from the average Joe to the top Hollywood stars. I refuse to buy into theidea that everyone has to look