Friday, May 17, 2013

Ma'am, Could You Grab My Breast? It's Floating Behind You...


In the 7th grade, I wanted to look just like Phoebe Cates.  Don't worry about the fact that she has olive skin and I'm a light off-white.  Never mind her dark, flowing locks, for I took the road less traveled with an irresponsible, flat-feathered style.  Look away from her flawless physique and rather focus on my rugged, block shape, supported (defying all laws of physics) by my long, twiggy legs.

Those paltry differences aside, we were twins.  TWINS, I tell you.

Like most 7th graders, I was an insecure ball of hormones desperate for people to like me.  Now, when I say "people," I really mean boys.  I was a hot little number with Buster Brown shoes, oily skin, and a double chin.  It was a far stretch to think that anyone the likes of Chris Collins - the cutest boy in school - would ever look my way...

...until one day, he and his crew were walking right toward me.

They'd been making the rounds in school that day, looking at girls and assigning them a number.  Some of the numbers I overheard were 7, 10, 12 & 6.  I had no idea what the numbers signified, but the higher numbers seemed to garner more excitement from the group than the lower numbers did.  As they approached me, I was nervous and excited all at the same time.  What was my number going to be?

I didn't have to wait long - "K," shouted one of the boys.  After a brief pause - as if to compute what "K" meant - the group erupted with laughter.  Hands over mouths, the slapping of knees, one kid fell to the floor in a fit of hysterics, and high fives all around.

Now, I was having a pretty good hair day that day - my Dorothy Hamill was helmet-perfect - so I decided to hold my head high and confidently make my way to Home-Ec.  But I was dying to know what was so funny.  What did "K" mean?

In Home-Ec, an 8th grader took mercy on me and explained that the numbers they were shouting assigned a school grade to my chest size.  For instance, a 10 meant you had boobs the size of a 10th grader, an 8 meant you had the boobs of an 8th grader, and so on.  "Oh, I get it," I said, "so, 'K' means -"

Waitaminute-

K!?  Kindergarten!?  Friends, not even Judy Blume could have prepared me for this...

Who knew that an adorable childhood game like Grade The Rack would spark a 3 year obsession with my non-existent boobage.  How many cars would I have to wash before I could afford a boob job?  How can I make them bigger? When is this elusive puberty going to grace me with unsightly pit hair, body odor and, above all else, breasts? 

I prayed every night for boobs, but God either didn't hear me or was on vacation, because my boobs weren't growing.  It was time to take matters into my own hands.
 
Once the lady at Sears dried her tears and stopped laughing, she was actually quite helpful in finding a AAA padded bra to fit my not-yet blossoming bosom. I couldn't wait to wear my new boobs to school the next day.  That is until Jason Smith questioned my overnight sproutage and poked at my right boob to confirm his suspicions.  Sadly, the bra cup, supported by nothing but air, collapsed against the tremendous pressure of Jason's test poke and remained in the concave position.

Again, I decided to hold my head high - stick out my one, good boob - and proudly make my way down the hall.        

Summers were the worst, though.  At least the winter offered the protection of layers.  Light fabrics that hugged the skin were not forgiving to the underdeveloped.  And the pool?  Well the pool presented challenges of a different kind.

Now that I think about it, I had some mad engineering skills back then.  I just didn't think things through to the end.  I mean, who wouldn't head to the pool after taking the time to strategically place carefully folded (and cut) Kleenex into the triangle lining of their bikini top?  Soft, supple, fool proof, right?  The moment I jumped into the water, the delicate tissue violently ejected from my bikini lining, leaving me shrouded in shredded Kleenex pieces.  I exited the pool looking like an underdeveloped spit ball.   

Humiliating as that was, it didn't stop me from moving forward on my instantaneous puberty project.  That very night I had an ingenious idea - shoulder pads!  I decided shoulder pads would be a better, more structurally sound, choice.  Again, I carefully cut and placed the modified shoulder pads in my bikini top and waited for them to do their magic.

I gotta tell ya, this was working.  They were shapely, they were resilient, they were perky and they were turning heads.  What I hadn't counted on, however, was their tremendous buoyancy.  As my squat body plummeted to the bottom of the pool, those suckers shot to the surface faster than two tiny heat-seeking missiles.  So there I was, flat-chested at the bottom of the pool, just praying for the ability to breathe underwater.  But alas, I had to collect my breasts floating on the surface above.

Boobs...sometimes they just get away from you.

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Just going out on a limb here, but I'm guessing Phoebe Cates never had to collect her boobs...




22 comments:

  1. I started off feeling so bad for you. I could feel your "K" pain. But you got me in the end.

    And the boobs, you'll have the last laugh when everyone ages and all the bigger boobed women are trying to keep from dragging theirs on the floor!

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    1. Exactly! I'm holding out for justice at 75 ;) It'll be worth the wait!

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  2. Great post babe!!!!

    I love my boobs, they are just perfect for my body. Though sometimes I wish they were smaller, I don't like to show cleavage, LOL.

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    1. Thank you! I'm good with mine, now, too. Although every once in a while I wish I had little extra sumthin'.

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  3. Middle school boys. Ugh!!! My daughter had the opposite problem - looked like a 15 year old girl in the 4th grade (and got her period too). That last part about the nose....so funny!! Great to meet you Karen!

    Penny from Mom Rants and Comfy Pants

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    1. They are the worst! I'm raising one and explained this story to him so he would know how something he saw as an innocent game could become source of angst for the other person.

      Oh, and my friends were all early bloomers - we talk now and they all tell me it would've been so much better in my shoes. Go figure! Great meeting you, too, Penny!

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  4. OMG I loved this!!!!! I never had a boob shortage. I was in a C cup when I was in 8th grade, but I was also a big girl, so that probably had something to do with it. I DID, however, long to catch up with my friends and get my period.


    I really wish I hadn't wished for that.

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    1. Ha! Oh, man - exactly! Thank you for the kind words, lady!

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  5. This might be the best narrative about the plight of the small breasted! (Please note I am in the group to this day!) I can totally fell you girl! Kleenex? Did it. Shoulder pads? Been there done that. Water bra, Wonder bra, push up bra, push in bra, push any direction is good enough for me... I've done it all. I'm almost 39 and still shopping for bras in the junior's section. Although I never got a "rating" I definitely got a comment yelled at full volume across the lunchroom from Jason Kirkland. It was upon returning from summer and he yelled, "Yo, Vicky! It looks like you didn't change a bit this summer... ANYWHERE!" Jerk!!

    What soothes my sad soul at night to this day, however, is that I can run, jump and dance like no other because nothing is bouncing around uncomfortable. Now my bladder is a different story...
    Vicky
    The Pursuit of Normal

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    1. Jason Kirkland...I'll remember that name! That was said to me too many times to count. Bastards!

      Bladder, boobs...guys have it so much easier...

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  6. Oh Lord I was one of those K girls, too. I stuffed every day with Kleenex and sure enough, some asshat would come along and poke to see it they were real. I think it's great though that despite going through this awful time of teen degradation, you're able to laugh about it and write this awesome blog post. Kudos to you....and btw I think your nose looks fine! XO

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    1. Awww, Marcia, thank you! Clearly I'm over the "Grade the Rack" period of my life. I can scarcely recall a detail one. :)

      K girls unite!

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  7. Very brilliantly done. I'm glad you got my prompt. And if you ever want extra boobage, I have tons to spare and am happy to spread the love around. I could give just one of my breasts to a needy family of small chested people and still have enough leftover to make a decent set for myself. Kids can be so cruel though. I'm lucky I was so invisible no one even bothered telling me if they rated me, rack or otherwise.

    Oh and there is nothing wrong with your nose. Believe it or not it looks lovely on your face, to change that would make you look different, and you look great as you are.

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    1. Thank you for the prompt! I wrote an entirely different blog, but it wasn't funny, because it was too true without being all touchy feely. It was just matter of fact (but it was a great therapy session) So I went in a different direction.

      And thank you so much for your sweet words.

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  8. This was as funny as it was well written. I write lots of stories about growing up (my post this week is called King of the Dorks) but I do think girls have it rougher than boys growing up.

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    1. I'm going to read King of the Dorks! I thought I followed your blog, but your posts don't show up on my feed. Clearly I've done something wrong - I'll correct it this morning.
      Thank you for stopping by, Stephen!

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  9. "Flat chested spitball"!!! So awesome.

    And? For my daughter's sake I really hope adolescent boys are not as big of assholes as they were back in my day with the bra strap snapping and rack grading.

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    1. That description is so apt, it almost makes me cry. And I have threatened Ryan within an inch of his life that if he makes fun of or points out, touches, snaps, grades...he's got to answer to me. Man, I hope I was scary enough when I said it!

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  10. Soo funny! I feel your A sized pain. Kids can just be merciless, cant' they? Great post :)

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    1. Why thank you! Being a late-bloomer - THAT was merciless ;) Thanks for stopping by!

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