Friday, August 04, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Girl, you'll be a woman soon....
I grew boobies the summer I turned 10 years old.
One day I woke up and I was in pain. My whole chest hurt. It was a weird, tender, throbbing pain, like a really new bruise. I had no clue as to what was happening to me, so of course being the little fatalist I have always been I was convinced I somehow made God angry and I must have Cancer. (The whole God fearing thing at a very young age came from going to Christian school in my early years.)
I was afraid to tell my parents of my "Cancer" because I thought they were having enough problems. I didn't want to worry them with the fact their only daughter was dying. I knew I had to do something to deal with my Cancer without letting my parents know. I decided to go to Church and pray to God for a miracle to cure my Cancer and save my parents the stress.
I found a small church not too far from where I lived and I went there every Sunday for a month. Every Sunday I sat there and prayed and prayed that God would cure my Cancer. It only seemed to be getting worse though. My nipples started to look all weird and swollen and my whole chest hurt worse than it did when I first diagnosed myself.
I finally broke down after months of silence and confided in my best friend that I was going to die from Cancer. She completely freaked out and started crying and asked me what kind of Cancer I was dying from.
"Breast Cancer" I told her.
She looked at me sideways and said, "But you don't really have your boobies yet? I mean all you have little mosquitos bites. How could you possibly have breast Cancer?"
I explained to her how they started hurting and how I was making deals with God for a miracle and all of that.
She started laughing so hard she turned red in the face. She finally calmed down enough to be able to say, "You don't have Cancer stupid, you are just getting your boobies! You have been praying to get rid of what I have been praying to grow!"
In one years time they were there and there was no hiding them. By the time I was 12 I had "the body of an 18 year old". At least that is what everyone kept telling me.
I distinctly remember walking into a room full of women who were sitting around chatting and my Mom asking me, "Michelle, what size bra do you wear now?"
I wanted to crawl under a rock.
"Why?!" I asked.
I could feel every one of their eyes on my chest.
"Because I am pretty sure you have bigger boobs than your Aunt here." she answered
My Aunt chimes in, "No way, I bet they are at most the same size, but a twelve year old doesn't have bigger boobs than me!"
I don't even know if I gave them an answer. I just remember getting out of that room as quickly as possible.
From the age of 13-16, every time I went to the mall with my girlfriends I always had to deal with smarmy older men hitting on me. Since I grew up in Alaska there were always loads of young military guys trolling the malls for teenage girls, and they were not subtle in their advances at all. Just to go shopping was like running some sort of pervert gauntlet!
I found myself wanting to lie about my age because it was easier to do that then explain why I was built the way I was and only 14 years old. It got to the point where the majority of my friends were a good 4-6 years older than me.
By the time I was 16 I was able to buy booze without an ID at two of the local liquor stores.
By 17 I realized that having blonde hair and big boobs was great for beauty pageants but not so hot if you ever wanted to be taken seriously. That was the year I started dying my hair darker colors.
The only time they ever served a real purpose was when I became a mom. But that was only for a year and due to nursing, they got bigger. A lot bigger. After a year of nursing you start to feel a lot less like a woman and a lot more like a beverage dispenser.
Eventually I got used to my shape. I got used to the fact that most men who will be attracted to me will be "boob guys". I got used to the fact that in the summer I could wear a shirt that on a normal cup sized girl would look like a cute little tank top, but on me would look like Frederick's of Hollywood. (Sometimes a girl just wants to be comfortable, and is not trying to just have them out there when it is 100 degrees outside!)
Over time I got used to referring to them as "the girls" and that people will just talk about them to me, some people will even poke them, they will get in my way when I am playing guitar, they will need to be strapped down when I run, and I will be asked for the rest of my life if they are real at least a half dozen times a year by stupid people in bars.
Hooray for boobies.
“I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as ordinary women. To enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy. I am a neurotic -- in the sense that I live in my world.
I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.”
-Anais Nin
One day I woke up and I was in pain. My whole chest hurt. It was a weird, tender, throbbing pain, like a really new bruise. I had no clue as to what was happening to me, so of course being the little fatalist I have always been I was convinced I somehow made God angry and I must have Cancer. (The whole God fearing thing at a very young age came from going to Christian school in my early years.)
I was afraid to tell my parents of my "Cancer" because I thought they were having enough problems. I didn't want to worry them with the fact their only daughter was dying. I knew I had to do something to deal with my Cancer without letting my parents know. I decided to go to Church and pray to God for a miracle to cure my Cancer and save my parents the stress.
I found a small church not too far from where I lived and I went there every Sunday for a month. Every Sunday I sat there and prayed and prayed that God would cure my Cancer. It only seemed to be getting worse though. My nipples started to look all weird and swollen and my whole chest hurt worse than it did when I first diagnosed myself.
I finally broke down after months of silence and confided in my best friend that I was going to die from Cancer. She completely freaked out and started crying and asked me what kind of Cancer I was dying from.
"Breast Cancer" I told her.
She looked at me sideways and said, "But you don't really have your boobies yet? I mean all you have little mosquitos bites. How could you possibly have breast Cancer?"
I explained to her how they started hurting and how I was making deals with God for a miracle and all of that.
She started laughing so hard she turned red in the face. She finally calmed down enough to be able to say, "You don't have Cancer stupid, you are just getting your boobies! You have been praying to get rid of what I have been praying to grow!"
In one years time they were there and there was no hiding them. By the time I was 12 I had "the body of an 18 year old". At least that is what everyone kept telling me.
I distinctly remember walking into a room full of women who were sitting around chatting and my Mom asking me, "Michelle, what size bra do you wear now?"
I wanted to crawl under a rock.
"Why?!" I asked.
I could feel every one of their eyes on my chest.
"Because I am pretty sure you have bigger boobs than your Aunt here." she answered
My Aunt chimes in, "No way, I bet they are at most the same size, but a twelve year old doesn't have bigger boobs than me!"
I don't even know if I gave them an answer. I just remember getting out of that room as quickly as possible.
From the age of 13-16, every time I went to the mall with my girlfriends I always had to deal with smarmy older men hitting on me. Since I grew up in Alaska there were always loads of young military guys trolling the malls for teenage girls, and they were not subtle in their advances at all. Just to go shopping was like running some sort of pervert gauntlet!
I found myself wanting to lie about my age because it was easier to do that then explain why I was built the way I was and only 14 years old. It got to the point where the majority of my friends were a good 4-6 years older than me.
By the time I was 16 I was able to buy booze without an ID at two of the local liquor stores.
By 17 I realized that having blonde hair and big boobs was great for beauty pageants but not so hot if you ever wanted to be taken seriously. That was the year I started dying my hair darker colors.
The only time they ever served a real purpose was when I became a mom. But that was only for a year and due to nursing, they got bigger. A lot bigger. After a year of nursing you start to feel a lot less like a woman and a lot more like a beverage dispenser.
Eventually I got used to my shape. I got used to the fact that most men who will be attracted to me will be "boob guys". I got used to the fact that in the summer I could wear a shirt that on a normal cup sized girl would look like a cute little tank top, but on me would look like Frederick's of Hollywood. (Sometimes a girl just wants to be comfortable, and is not trying to just have them out there when it is 100 degrees outside!)
Over time I got used to referring to them as "the girls" and that people will just talk about them to me, some people will even poke them, they will get in my way when I am playing guitar, they will need to be strapped down when I run, and I will be asked for the rest of my life if they are real at least a half dozen times a year by stupid people in bars.
Hooray for boobies.
“I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as ordinary women. To enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy. I am a neurotic -- in the sense that I live in my world.
I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.”
-Anais Nin
Monday, July 31, 2006
Old Skool Posies
I did a lot of scanning this weekend. I would like to get all of our photos transferred to a digital format for better storing.
Here are a few of my favorites:
These were all taken right around the time Jon and I first met.
I love this shot, they all look so cozy!
And then at the game... Jon and Ken sang the national anthem at a Mariners game:
And this one just because it's sexy:
and this one because it is silly:
Here are a few of my favorites:
These were all taken right around the time Jon and I first met.
I love this shot, they all look so cozy!
And then at the game... Jon and Ken sang the national anthem at a Mariners game:
And this one just because it's sexy:
and this one because it is silly:
1774 songs on my iTunes and nothing to listen to.
I wrote this in a note today:
I am so totally over the summer, I'm ready for Fall...
and as soon as I wrote it I had to follow it up with:
(literally not figuratively given my impending age and all)
When does the Autumn of our lives begin? What age is considered the start of it?
I'm not afraid of getting older, I'm only afraid of wasting time.
I still have so much I need to do.
Haven't laughed this hard in a long time
I better stop now before I start crying
Go off to sleep in the sunshine
I don't want to see the day when it's dying
-ES
I am so totally over the summer, I'm ready for Fall...
and as soon as I wrote it I had to follow it up with:
(literally not figuratively given my impending age and all)
When does the Autumn of our lives begin? What age is considered the start of it?
I'm not afraid of getting older, I'm only afraid of wasting time.
I still have so much I need to do.
Haven't laughed this hard in a long time
I better stop now before I start crying
Go off to sleep in the sunshine
I don't want to see the day when it's dying
-ES
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