I had a tough time as a young girl understanding…well, girls. I grew up with two older brothers and a lot of neighborhood boys. I didn’t care much about clothes, except for the Cabbage Patch Doll shirt I had that featured 3D yarn braids–so rad. Poofy hair? Didn’t care. I was perplexed when the one girl my age down the street was mean and pouty. It was easier to play with Jeffy, exploring the old pioneer home and fort nearby. The only drama was when we hunkered down in the fort to seek protection from imagined attacks on the homestead. When I turned 12 and joined the Young Women program…