Thursday, August 30, 2007

Mom doesn't need to read this one!

I wanted to share a lighter side of my musings from Anne Lamott's latest book. In one chapter she talks about the fact that she was the first one in her grade to get a bra. I felt VERY envious. I was second to LAST in my grade to get a bra. I don't know why my mother wouldn't let me get one, no one needed one, it was just a right-of-passage. My mom should have known I had wanted one for a very long time. I think I was about 10 when I first started stuffing my UNDERSHIRT. I mean like snow cones. She never said a word. I'm sure she was trying to save me from my own pathetic embarrassment but I was just trying to get attention I wasn't getting. I was a very late bloomer but that's no excuse. Okay so having reached the goal of bradom, I still didn't fill it with anything until my senior year of high school then I made up for lost time, ba-boom. I was always made fun of for being too skinny and also flat-chested, i.e. Carpenter's Dream, flat as a board and easy to screw. Only the first part was true. So I didn't date like normal other girls, the boys in school figured I wasn't worth the effort. But by the time I got my boobs in my senior year I was dating Aggies (the college guys) and was over the high school dating thing. Still skinny with boobs I still, of course, didn't appreciate it like the average teen, and now as a grown woman, I'd give my left nut for that bod now! So a few years later I met, dated, and married my first husband. He was in his senior year at Texas A&M and happened to take a class with a guy who was a year ahead of me in high school. Somehow they got to talking and Jim said I'd gone to Bryan High and Glenn said so had he and what was my name. So when Jim told him my name, that fannyhole Glenn Joyce asked, "Stephanie George? Is she still flat-chested?"! That was it, that's what he thought of me. Jim replied something like, "Umm...NOOOOO...I guess you haven't seen her in a while.". Glenn graduated the year before my maturity. I'm not bragging (I just hadn't thought of this for over 25 years and thought it was funny) but I was still about 100 pounds and wore a C cup; I was boobs on a stick. In fact once when Jim and I were on a camping trip at Lake Travis a drunk Fred Williams said in front of everyone, "I've never seen such big tits on such a skinny girl!". So, 30 years and 3 children later my body is very different and yet I appreciate my body (way more pounds, worse for the wear, more jokes about my weight just different ones, and my mother calls me a cow), my life, and myself more than I ever have. I think Oprah has really gotten to me. Thank you, Oprah. I was made fun of constantly growing up for being too skinny then as a mature adult for being overweight. I just decided a few years ago that I would not play either game any longer. The only solution is to be happy, that's also the best revenge. I've got my revenge...