Kinda Like Labor, Or So I Hear

Well, first off, I am finally well. After two antibiotics, a nasal spray, and a Diflucan I am now crud free. It's about time - I don't have time to be sick. I have bigger fish to fry.
Right now I am trying to figure out when my almost-10-year-old stepdaughter, C, became a teenager. This past Saturday, C had her first Halloween/early birthday slumber party. We set them up in the dining room with pizza, snacks, a Bratz Dance Pad and Kidz Bop 8, a cd player, and let them go. The first indicator I got was when the girls were eating pizza. B & I were in the kitchen eavesdropping and all of the sudden we hear, "Let's play Truth or Dare!" B and I looked at each other and held our breath. The game starts, and we hear C say, "I dare you to make out with that skeleton." WHAT!?! B snorts diet Coke out of his nose and starts cracking up. I quietly restrain myself from jumping up and running into the dining room screaming, "Where the Hell did you hear that? No one in this house 'makes out!'" Which is untrue, but I don't want to scar her for life. But I said nothing.
The second indicator came when I was fulfilling the promised "pedicure" part of the party. Out of the blue C asks, "When can I shave my legs? Caitlyn shaves her legs already, can I?" Holy shit. Talk about on the spot. I finally mumbled, "We'll talk about this later." Goddammit.
The third and final straw came Monday morning when she walks into the spare bedroom, where I am ruthlessly ironing khakis, wearing Whore Red lipstick and a big fat smile. I take one look say, "NO," and keep on ironing. She then proceeds to gently wipe it off, leaving a lovely smeared pink residue, and begins applying glitter lip gloss in methodical, hypnotic circles on her lips. Again I take one look and say, "NO." Well, let's just say that the second rejection of her aspirations to be hooker or possibly Dolly Parton resulted in a wailing litany of "It's just gliiiiittttterrrr!" I finally had to whip out the, "If you're smart, you will silently sit in the backseat of this car and be very, very quiet" line, which subliminally says, "If you don't shut up I will have to slit my wrists, which means you and your dad will be left alone and he will allow you to go to school looking like a hooker, you will get knocked up at 12, live on Welfare, and smoke two packs of Camels a day, and if this happens I will haunt and torture the both of you as long as you live..."
I don't know what happened. It seems like yesterday boys were gross, bathing was a battle, and the highlight of her day was listening to her lullaby cd she's had since she was two. Now I have a premenstrual, hormonal, Gwen Stefani worshipping pre-teen. And, to add insult to injury, I will be experiencing this all over again in about 11 years with Ruby, which is just enough time for me to forget about the pain and agony I have experienced this week.