Still no word

Waiting to hear from the surgeon.

THE BEGINNING

I guess the best place to start is the beginning.

I don't ever remember not having my breasts. The have defined me for my 49 years. Well maybe not all 49 but for at least 39.

My first bra was a 34C. It was the summer between 2nd & 3rd grade. I can still smell the stale odors and hear the creak of the floorboards from the store where we bought them.

I can still hear my friends laughing at me the next day screaming OH MY GOD SHE HAS A BRA ON!

I can still feel the hurt of friends not being allowed to play with me because their mom said my breasts must be large from letting the boys pull on them.

I can still feel the prying eyes gawking at the sight of an 11 year old girl with the 36-24-36 figure.

I can still feel the shame of my breasts bouncing as I played hop scotch.

I can still feel the embarrassment of being at a slumber party in 5th grade and playing Truth or Dare and being dared to show my huge breasts to the group and doing it and seeing the look on their faces.

I can still feel the shame of all the boys wanting to grope me.

I can still feel the horror of knowing that the boys wanted to feel me up and thinking that meant putting their hand in my vagina and feeling all my innards. And the relief when he touched my breast.

I can still hear the relentless taunts and jeers from my playmates at school.

I can still feel the hurt of knowing that my girlfriends thought I was a slut at age 12. All because I had breasts.

I can remember the tears of not being able to wear what was in style because it was to revealing.

I can still remember the prying eyes of the male teachers and later in life male bosses trying to steal a glance down my shirt.

I still feel the need to cover it all up so no one can see. So no one will want me. The open pit in the center of my being that nothing seems to fill.

I can remember feeling so alone.

That is the beginning.