In the summer of 1982, at the age of 14, I was hired to work in the ticket office and kiosk at the Sale Memorial Pool in Victoria’s Gippsland region. The cool girls at school, who did not usually acknowledge me, were seething with jealousy. It was a sought-after job in a time before fast-food outlets and chain supermarkets.
I was anxious because I didn’t look like the girls who usually worked at the pool. The Dolly magazine cover-girl types. They were tanned, used raspberry lip gloss and Impulse body spray, and wore stretchy boob tubes over their crocheted bikini tops.
