Skip to main content

Does Size Really Matter?

I sympathize with the writer who struggles with a small chest. Boys can be cruel. Especially those idiot ones in high school. I was a barely budding high school senior, so you can imagine the horror I went through. I was so self-conscious of my chest. My sister was the complete opposite of me: tan, full of curves, radiant. I very much resembled a stick. With a potato for a head. My sister was worldly and knowing where I was awkward and clueless. My sister had bras from Victoria's Secret where the only things that fit me were those cotton training bras from ShopKo. (I took off the little pink bows to make them appear more womanly.)

One summer day, my sister and I lounged lazily around the family room flipping through magazines and television stations. I picked up a Victoria's Secret magazine, studying the plethora of choices. (Yes, plethora, noun: overabundance; excess.) And the multitude of sizes... sizes I had never seen before. HUGE sizes and -  ...small ones.

What's this? I thought. It says also available in AA. What is AA exactly? There's an A and  then there's an AA. How would I know if I'm an AA versus an A? There has got to be something in this catalog that defines it.

But I couldn't find the definition. Great. If I really wanted to know I'd have to ask my sister. Who would probably laugh at me because I'm not as worldly in the art of bra manufacturers as she. I sucked it up and asked:

Hey - what's the difference between just an A and a double-A?

"Oh," she replied, matter-of-factly. "A's are shorter and fatter; double-A's are long and skinny."

I must have sat staring at my chest for twenty minutes before I realized she was talking about batteries.

Comments

Rebecca said…
Kudos for using one of my favorite words..."plethora"
i can't even comment i'm laughing so hard. mostly cuz i didn't get it either.
Sobrina Tung said…
LOL, omg, so funny! Don't worry, I feel your pain! I, too, waited for my chest to fill out... I'm still waiting ;)

Popular posts from this blog

The House that God Built

in·stan·ta·ne·ous /ˌinstənˈtānēəs/ adjective 1. occurring or done in an instant or instantly.
synonyms: immediate, instant, on-the-spot







The thing is, she died so sudden.
I didn't have the chance to plead with God, to make all the irrational promises. If he would just let her be okay.... I would start taking better care of my health. I would be nicer to the neighbor that drove me crazy. I would always let someone else go in front of me at Walmart no matter how long the line was. I wouldn't complain. Ever. I would volunteer at the Homeless Shelter. I would clean up after pigs. I would clip the toenails of the elderly. I would do anything and everything He would ask me to do....
There is a box on her death certificate that captures the amount of time between the initial injury and the time of death. It reads "seconds." I wish it read "instantaneous" because she deserves a clever word like that.
Fast forward five years.... definitely taking MUCH longer than "…

Seeing Avery All Grown Up

One day I'll tell you about the freezing cold we left and the heavy bags we lugged, full of supplies and medicines. I'll tell you about arriving in Port au Prince and walking across a cracked concrete parking lot to board an old school bus with a flat tire. How the heat was suffocating after months of below zero Wisconsin winter weather, how the people crowded and walked too close to moving traffic as we searched for a tire shop that was barely more than a couple men sitting on overturned 5-gallon buckets on the side of the road next to a pile of old tires, everything covered in dirt.

I'll tell you about waiting on the bus while they removed the tire and I'll recall the loud explosion that rocked the bus and scared the life out of me and how I was relieved to learn it was just the tire blowing after being filled too far. (They didn't have any gauges.) And then I'll tell you about the fear I felt when I realized we didn't have a tire and we were stuck on th…

So, WILL an M&M melt in your nose?

This weekend was one of the busiest social dates of the summer. The options seemed endless: a lobster boil, a fireman's dance, and a little something called Moos & Blues which you just have to experience to believe. (Small town farmers hosting one of the biggest events of the season: pig roast, live music and an unbelievable fireworks display that ranks up there with the best of 'em.) However, I was home with Dotter (9) and Cletus (1.5) and two extra kids (aged 3 and 1).

Big V, being the stellar support system that he is, bailed on me to attend an obligatory graduation party.

So it was me (clearly outnumbered) who stayed with the children for the day.

And it was a very long day.

Eight hours later I had managed to put two of the kids to bed and the other was quietly watching a movie. (Dotter had locked herself in my bedroom hours earlier to get away from everyone. Meaning me. Because I kept asking her to help bring me a diaper. Help fill up that sippy cup. Help take that…