So my sister is always in project mode, even in Blogland. This time her “Projectiness” has manifested itself in a challenge. Leading up to Thanksgiving, she has issued a call to other bloggers to join her in a gratuity countdown to the big day (you can find the guidlines HERE) by blogging about something you are grateful for.
Today my category is Health/Body.
I am grateful for my breasts. I know that is kind of an odd, and some might say shallow thing to be grateful for but I am.
When I first started developing, I was very young 11 or 12 and I was taller than all the other boys, and had these annoying mounds growing on my chest. I have always prided myself on being the opposite of my girly girl sisters, who would not finger paint or play sports, but instead opted for writing, acting, ballet dancing, and putting on make-up. At 11 my favorite color was black, my hair was short, I wore soccer shorts and baggy tee shirts to Sunday night church activities, my favorite movie was Demolition Man, and I thought make-up and boys were for bimbo’s. Then like i said I started growing breasts. It was awkward. I would find older boys looking at me, and girls snickering behind my back. I felt ashamed of my differences and tried even harder to mask my feminine parts. I even went so far as to tape my chest during softball season, just as I had seen in the movie Now and Then. Breast were bothersome, embarrassing, and even painful for an athlete like me.
But a dacade plus later, I love my breasts. They made me own up to the fact that I was a girl, and now a woman. If I had stayed flat chested like I had prayed so many nights that I would, I would have never learned to enjoy bubble baths, and painting my toenails, and wearing dresses just because you like the way they feel. I would have never known that you can play softball, AND wear make-up, I would have never realized that the color pink looks fabulous on me, or that Singing In the Rain is my favorite movie. Yep my breasts are pretty awesome. I couldn’t hide them from anyone, especially not myself. Thank God for puberty.