This is not meant as a sob story.
However, I want to stress the most important point in this entire narrative - that parents who try to stamp out their daughters' early sexual expressions because they (the parents) find them inappropriate or uncomfortable also do their children a disservice.
At the risk of getting too personal (not much of a risk in an online forum, really!) I was definitely the child of such parents. I never believed that my body was "dirty" or any such nonsense, and for that I'm grateful. But I know that I invested (and still do invest, sadly) far too much time and energy in hating my own sexuality as a result.
I come from a very conservative culture where women are supposed to have little to no sexual feelings prior to age 18 (and it's true that for most women in traditional societies this age limit might have seemed appropriate). When I decided ate age 13 that I wanted to start shaving my legs, I felt so guilty for my shallowness that instead, I took to wearing long pants. To play tennis. For three hours a day. In the middle of 90 degree summer heat. I can't tell you how many times I had to excuse myself because I was feeling light-headed and heatstruck, and when my mother finally blackmailed me into explaining the problem, she reacted as I expected she would. With shock and horror, with the protestation that I was "too young for those kinds of concerns," with the assertion that she herself hadn't done it until after college. Mind you, most of my friends already did.
The first time I bought a bra that wasn't white - high school, mind you - I hid it in the back of my closet so my mother would never find it. The list goes on, but I've made my point.
I was always told that girls who indulged their sexuality were gross and incorrect in the extreme, that they were shallow, and they would come to a bad (ie, Paris Hilton-type) end. Even now, when I dress fairly modestly, a man whistling at me on the street can make me feel ashamed, as if I've done something wrong. Even now, if I'm attracted to a boy, I feel as if I'm being shallow. Even now, if I catch myself worrying about how I look, I try to remember that there are people dying in fires in Greece and bomb blasts in India, and these unfortunate folks are far more worthy of my consideration. In other words, I feel as if worrying about sex is somehow beneath me, and I have a lot of trouble communicating what I want as a result.
Having said all this, I want to add that in every other regard I'm exactly like Palabra. I love my life, I've had incredible opportunities, I've had loads of professional success. I led my high school in most categories, I volunteered abroad for months at a time, I speak multiple languages. My personal life isn't what I wish it were, but nothing is perfect. I also know that in five years I'll probably be fine.
But once in a while, I read an account like Palabra's and I realize that there is another way to raise children. To nurture their minds without condemning their bodies. And that some parents (and I love my parents, I really do; I would do anything for them) manage it. For any parent, it's worth remembering that biology has changed, that kids aren't to blame for that, that we live in a sex-drenched culture where women nonetheless have more professional and academic opportunities than they ever had in the past. And we haven't dropped the ball - we vote, we attend great colleges, we buy homes and make sound decisions.
A parent's job is to set boundaries, but those boundaries should be defined by an understanding of the child as a person, and not by the parents' squeamishness, religious inclinations, or history of personal development.