People often talk about a pivotal, defining moment in one’s life – a key event that puts everything into perspective, changes every prior outlook on the world and leaves one irrevocably changed.

Christmas of ’03 was that moment for me when, as an 8-year-old, I first laid eyes on Hilary Duff’s Metamorphosis album in Sanity during Boxing Day shopping. I remember that day like it was only 16 years ago.

It was peaking its head out on the shelf behind The Eminem Show and John Farnham’s One Voice: The Greatest Hits, but when I locked eyes with that beautifully windswept Hilary head well-photoshopped in front of a gorgeous turquoise background, and sporting those orange Supré dangly earrings, I knew I would never be the same.

It was as if Metamorphosis and I were the Earth’s axis, with the world was now revolving around us.

The rain fell down, and woke my dreams, I let it wash away my sanity. Welcome to my truth. I’m coming clean.

YOU DID THAT.

Queen Duff’s second studio album well-and-truly slapped me back into the dinosaur ages.

While my cousins were outside riding motorbikes on the farm, I, post-Boxing Day shopping, locked myself in a room and popped my bussy so hard to Metamorphosis I was personally responsible for The Great ‘03 Earthquake of Oceania.

This singer had literally sliced open my chest, reached into my ribcage and penetrated my fucking heart with her angelic vocals. Just listen to the key change at 2:18 below during “Workin’ It Out” and try to not fist pump in the air like your Aunty Meryl after 2 pinot noirs. I get literal shivers thinking about this moment in music history.

Vocals aside, Metamorphosis taught me many things. It taught my 8-year-old self how to sexy dance. She also single-handedly invented math: “Is it a minus or a plus? / Does enough equal enough?” she croons in her aptly-titled song, “The Math”. “If you can’t do the math / Then nothing adds up / Tell me why I’m here.” Shivers.

She also equipped me with some life-long lessons about relationships, and helped me realise that love just.. is. 🙂 (Please google track 8 – it’ll be the best thing you do this year.)

“All these boys on the playground are so yesterday,” I’d eventually murmur to myself on the odd occasion that one of them gave me grief. I’d internally tongue pop and flutter off, because I was just a bird that had already flown away. (Haven’t they heard that I was gonna be okay?)

She also inspired me to grow. Blasting “Sweet Sixteen” made me think 16 was going to be lit. “Fuck, I literally can NOT wait to be 16. Urgh, so bullshit I have to wait 8 more years. Not fair.” It was going to be my year to shine.

Update: it wasn’t, but it’s the thought that counts.

Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hilary Duff was solely responsible for making me a homosexual. She may as well have invented her own sexuality, because I was that – Hilary-sexual, the act of being sexually aroused by Metamorphosis’ discography, and Metamorphosis’ discography alone.

Now, I’m not sure about the legalities involved with getting an album onto Spotify, but the fact that Metamorphosis doesn’t exist on the streaming service is a direct homophobic attack. It’s a literal hate crime and must be amended pronto. Part of me understands why it isn’t on Spotify though – it’s too much of a health and safety hazard. It’d literally send the platform into irreparable meltdown.

Anyway, to my dear Hilary, thank you for providing my 8-year-self with such much-needed ammo to hulk smash my bussy onto the carpet. Thank you for providing a track list that has stood the test of time and continues to provide my now 23-year-old self with tunes to rise about the softbois in my life.

But most of all, thank you for helping me metamorphisise into a glamazon bitch ready for the runway.

I am now a strong, independent and horny butterfly. Le fin.