Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Top: Ann Taylor (gift from my mom)
Bolero: Ann Taylor
Bracelets: gift from my uncle
Earrings: gift from my sister-in-law
Crazy face: not sure...
I feel like I'm pulling out the big guns with Dress Your Best Week this year. It's been harder to make my list, but I feel like it's given me a new and improved appreciation for my body. For today? My chest, and trust me when I say that this post might be the hardest (most awkward?) one for me to write.
I got my first training bra in third grade. Third. Grade. And it was not a "let's make you feel all grown up" kind of training bra experience. It was like a "Hey, mom, people at school are asking if I wear a bra" experience. Next thing I knew, we were at JC Penney's picking out 32AAs. In fifth grade, I was the only girl who had to wear a bra every day (and my mom told me it had to be EVERY DAY) which meant I got "plinkied" every time we had a bathroom break. Plinkies were when the other kids snapped the back strap. It was awesome.
By "awesome", I mean "mortifying", of course. Naturally, I was self-conscious because I was a kid who didn't know what to make of her body. As I got older, there were all kinds of rules about what I could and couldn't wear thanks to all I had going on in the front. No tank tops, definitely no spaghetti straps, cardigans or jackets to cover me up, no scoop necks, few v-necks, nothing with an empire waist, no tops with writing across the front, avoid embellishment across the bust, no woven button-up shirts...
That's a lot of rules, especially for a high school kid, which is what I was at the time. Some of those were my parents' rules and some were my own, but it pretty much guaranteed that I had no idea what to do with my top half. I'll readily admit that these days, I'm much more comfortable covering up, but at the time, I felt awkward and ashamed. I mean, I didn't ask for what I had, right?
But I feel like these days I finally have perspective on my chest. For one, I'm just below the national average, which makes me feel way better about my options. For another, I've stopped fighting it. This is the body I have, the only one I have, and I've got a chest that women will literally pay money for. So I thank the sweet Lord for what I've got and move on.
And I'll just go ahead and put some ruffles on 'em to make up for lost time.