It was the year I got my first C-cup bra. I had been itching and uncomfortable in the chest for months, and sometimes the straps left painful red welts.
When we went shopping for a new bra the saleslady immediately saw that I had been squeezing into a B-cup for too long and I was overdue to move up to a bigger cup size.
"Goodness, youre as big as me now," my mother said.
It was a lot more comfortable. I knew when I got to school I was going to be the only girl in my 9th grade class with a C-cup, and the fact that my blouse was suddenly sticking out another inch would be noticed. I was a little embarrassed, but also proud.
Im embarrassed to admit it, but most of the time I secretly enjoyed it when boys made a big deal about my chest and girls looked at it enviously. It started in the 7th grade, and it has never let up. Im still in school -- I teach now -- and the boys still devote a gene...
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