My mom informed me when I was in fourth grade that it was time to buy a bra. Well, it was about time. It was well into fourth grade when she mentioned that. A lot of the girls were already wearing a bra. I was still wearing a white t-shirt with spaghetti straps or possibly nothing at all. Well, under my clothes, I mean. I think my mom dressed me for quite a while, so who knows for sure. What I was sure of was that I wanted to push her down the basement steps everytime she referred to my breasts as “mosquito bites.”
Mosquito bites? Really? I know that breasts have many adjectives, ranging from “jugs” to “bosom” and the one I hate, “Titties.” I hate that word. “Mosquito bites” catapulted into first place real quick. My mom was talking to the other stay-at-home, stay-in-your-house-coat-all-day moms. I could hear conversations like this on the phone. “Well, yes, I do think she is ready. I can see them through her tops. They look like little mosquito bites.” And then she would laugh. I would hang my head low and walk my mosquito bites back to my bedroom and ponder why the hell she would give them that name. Why not call them “Rosebuds” or something pretty, coming into bloom? Hell no. I get to have mosquito bite boobs.
Boys were idiots and enjoyed snapping girl’s bras in the back. I wanted mine to snap too. It was like a rite of passage into puberty…bra snapping. I had to join the club.
So, off we went to find a “training bra.” Ok, I guess we will be training my breasts to grow? I was confused. I remember the brand name was Teenform because that’s all they had back then. I was also confused as to why we only bought two bras. Seems to me that either bras didn’t get washed like underwear or my mom didn’t have much faith in my budding breasts.
One thing I wished she would have told me is that you don’t need to wear bras to bed. Since they were “training bras,” why would they get some time off? I thought I had to wear them around the clock. I wore them to bed. I wore them all the freaking time. Thanks Mom for the mother/daughter talk.
I guess I really didn’t need to train anything. I was skinny, tiny, and well, had little use for a bra for a long time. As I got older, I noticed that the other girls were more endowed than me. I really didn’t have a problem with it…until an idiot boy came up with an oh so funny joke…directed right at me…in front of others.
“Hey, Vickie, I heard you were a carpenter’s dream.” I didn’t know where he was going with this. So I just shrugged like, ”What the hell are you talking about?” He then smiled and said, “You’re flat as a board.”………….. Sigh….I was like the Charlie Brown of breasts. It was awful. I laughed a “Boy, you sure got me, didn’t you, moron,” but then cried as soon as I was alone. I was never going to have cleavage. Everyone was probably going to start calling me “Victor.”
So, and I don’t know how old when I did this, but when this ad came out in magazines, I just had to order it. The Mark Eden Bustline Developer. I had no idea what the hell it was, but I was getting it. With my mom’s blessing, and her money, I ordered it. It was $9.95 + shipping and handling and guaranteed to increase my bustline. I remember this ad so very well. I had this magazine clipping in my room and would read it over and over again. I was going to order this.
According to Wikipedia, “The product consisted of a regimen of exercises using a clamshell-like device with a spring to provide resistance. The device and the regimen were never illustrated or described in the advertisements, which instead usually contained pictures of women showing their breasts. To the extent that the product had any effects at all, it worked by enlarging the pectoral muscles and latissimus dorsi, which could increase the circumference of the exerciser’s bustline without actually enlarging breasts. Spokeswomen for the product included June Wilkinson,, the Playboy centerfold, who appeared in one edition of the product’s documentation.”
I wasn’t the only girl my age to order this product. Nope. There were more in my neighborhood. I decided that something must be in the drinking water in Woodland Estates that stunted our breast development. So, I ordered it, not knowing what was coming.
It arrived in a little box in plain wrapping. I opened it to find a pink clam-looking device that when squeezed, worked on those muscles beneath your breasts. There were printed exercises to follow every day. Pretty soon I was going to look like one of those girls in the advertisements.
Well, it didn’t work. I was going to have mosquito bites all my life and that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. I was never one to shove kleenex into my bra to pouf me out a bit, because I just knew there would be a “Vickie story” if I did that. If something could go horribly wrong to cause years of angst, a trail of toilet paper coming out of a bra would do me in.
Well, I grew up eventually and finally saw cleavage when I was about 22. It sucked being made fun of for having small breasts. I’m just glad I can’t remember who told me I was a carpenter’s dream because I would have to think long and hard if I would want him as my Facebook friend.
I would probably have to “flatly” deny him.