I haven’t told many people this before but when I was a young girl living in Australia I developed a bit of a complex.  I moved down unda when I was ten years old and I was shocked to discover that most of the girls in my grade five class were already developing…you know…boobs, breasts, a decent rack.  I, on the other hand, only felt a slight sensitivity on one side.  One side! What’s up with that?  Not even a hint of swelling though.  Ya, it was a bit of an issue for me.  What’s worse is that the same young girls were all beginning to menstruate too.  They were blossoming into women at the ripe old age of ten and eleven years old.  (Looking back now I suspect high levels of hormones in their milk or meat pies)

I began to believe there was something very wrong with me.  The other girls sensed my shame and teased me about it while some kinder souls thought they were showing they cared when they asked me every month if it had come yet. I felt their eyes searching the front of my school jumper (“sweater” in canadian) for any new bumps and then either smirked or looked away in pity.

My best friend, Joanne, had the most impressive…um, chest, of all.  I remember one day walking along the highway with her and cars kept honking at her until she asked me to switch sides with her.  And yes the honking stopped.  So you see how this complex came to be.  Joanne was also still growing and she had faith that one day I would too.  I’ll never forget how thrilled I was when she gave me one of the bras she had out grown.  I would put it on stuffed with socks to see how the real ones might feel one day.  It was my first crack at “visualization”.  I also put that bra under my pillow and prayed that God would grant me the full round chest of my dreams.  I’m not kidding.  I so badly wanted to go to school bleeding and busty and prove my womanhood to those Aussies.  I guess those reasons weren’t really pure enough and so it was all denied to me until I was back on Canadian soil five long years later.

My praying and visualizing paid off and yes, my wish was granted.  I have been proud of my ‘girls’ for years, until recently.  They’ve started growing again! Along with other parts of me that I don’t want any larger, thank you.  And that other thing I wished so hard for has outgrown its purpose and has just become a big pain.  Literally.

Last night I found myself jumping up and down while dancing at my Zumba class and cursing the way my girls were threatening to blacken both eyes if I didn’t stop.  I shot annoyed glances at all the smaller chested women who I knew by the happy looks on their faces weren’t feeling the pain I was in.  The music blared “…makes me want to jump…throw my hands up and shout…” NO, it makes me want to cry and hold onto these jugs with both hands so they don’t rip off and bounce away.

So if any of you have a size B cup bra that you don’t need anymore, I have a pillow to place it under and pray over.

Lesson:  Be careful what you wish for.

Not really a picture of me...just how I feel sometimes