Tuesday, September 22, 2009
I had the dubious distinction of being the tallest student in my 5th grade glass at 5 feet 9 inches tall. Needless to say, I was what they call "an early bloomer". While all the other little girls were ruminating over their latest Barbie, I was arguing with my mother over whether to use the sticky sanitary napkins or the belted ones at "that time of the month".
Since I was the first girl in my gaggle of friends to become a young woman, I took solace in the fact that I would have boobies before them. My sister, two years older than me, already had enviable buzooms. And my mother, in her all Double D glory was anxious to take her little girl shopping for her first bra.
I pictured spectacled Audrey, who had a penchant for singing "Zippity Doo Da", looking at me in all her four-eyed envy. And cute little Jennifer who would suddenly wonder why all the boys wanted to push me on the swings instead of her. Oh, the power I would yield at Anderson School!
Yeah, well, that didn't happen. By some cruel twist of fate, I inherited my father's boobs instead of my mother's. I waited patiently, year and year, hoping that my breasts would catch up to the progress my legs and increasingly widening ass had made.
My sister loved to give me birthday cards every year that mocked my barely A cup. Most despised was the card with a picture of a roll of toilet paper on it and this nasty little taunt on the front, "Why don't you rub this on your chest so it will grow?"
Couldn't wait for the punch line when I opened it, "It seems to have worked on your butt!"
And so, my boob envy was born. Over the years, I resigned myself to sneaking peeks at the girls spilling out of their tank tops or teeny bikinis. I never chastised a boyfriend for staring as long as he pointed them out to me. Do I have latent homosexual tendencies? Maybe. You be the judge.
I'm happy to report that I no longer need to ogle girls with enviable ta-tas because I'm now a member of the inner circle.
I've gained about 25 pounds in the last 10 years and it seems like 20 of them have shown up above my waist. You won't hear me complaining, though. I find every opportunity to walk past construction sites so the girls can jiggle and say hello to the workers. Of course, I feign disgust when they hoot and holler because what kind of girl will they think I am if I don't?
If I'm talking to a man and I notice him furtively glance down at the girls, it takes every ounce of me to not say, "Aren't they magnificent? Do you want to touch them? It's okay."
Yes, my boob envy years are over. What a great feeling to put this chapter behind me.
Speaking of behinds, walking in front of me this morning was this girl with the most exquisite ass.....