Sunday, August 02, 2009
...circa 1966. Traded the communion dress for this fetching pantsuit, socks and Keds (or were they PF Flyers?).
I was only eleven in this picture, and sometimes put crumpled up balls of looseleaf under my shirt to create the illusion of breasts. (not here, though) In those days, bras were so lumpy that the looseleaf looked pretty "real". Needless to say, I was in a big hurry to grow up.
That summer my mother signed me up for CYO Day Camp (Catholic Youth Organization). Based on my date of birth, I was put into the 10/11 age group. However, I had other ideas.
The very first day, I spotted a boy in the back of the bus who was singing "Satisfaction" at the top of his lungs. He was clearly NOT in the 10/11 group, but he was edgy and dangerous and I immediately ditched my funny glasses and sashayed back there and caught his eye.
We arrived at camp and were greeted by the director: a big, nasty-ass he-woman that I recognized as the gym teacher from hell at my sister's high school. A normal kid would have been terrified. Instead, I decided to doctor the birth date on my bus pass and get myself into the 13/14 group...to be closer to Jagger Junior who instantaneously became my boyfriend.
My mother hadn't yet taken me for my first AAA-cup fitting, so I spent the rest of that summer wearing my bathing suit top under my clothes in the event that he tried to snap my "bra". I said "shit" a lot. The real 13-14 year olds in my group answered every possible question I had about sex. (I imparted all this knowledge to my 9 year old cousin, who immediately lept to the conclusion that he was adopted, because "my parents would NEVER do that!!") Although blind as a bat, I refused to wear my dorky glasses. Priorities, man.
By the end of the summer I was WAY cooler than my yodeling paramour, and even without my glasses I realized he wasn't that hot. I eventually got my AAA-cup bra, about two years before it was completely uncool to wear one.