When I was eight, I went to Barcelona with my family, and we stayed at a Eurocamp campsite with a pool. On the second day, I was walking with my dad beside the pool when I looked down and spotted some poop on the ground. "Look, Daddy," I said. "A dog pooped here." He looked at the poop and shook his head. "That's not dog poop," he said gravely. "That's human."

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Later in the same trip, we went to a waterpark. Hooray! Unfortunately, my bathing suit was made of some awful fabric that stuck to the slides, so I kept getting stuck halfway down and needing the lifeguards to come and retrieve me. Not to worry, my mom stumbled onto the perfect solution: to make me wear one of my brother's speedos. And nothing else. For five hours, I wandered around the park, humiliated, while kids shouted, "PUT A SHIRT ON!" at me. It would be years before I developed breasts, but still. Eight. Too old.