Let me set the stage for you: three seventh-grade girls, on the brink of womanhood, struggling to fit in with the busty eight-grade girls, pondering the same question that many girls that age do: "Is my chest big enough for a real bra?"
Needless to say, I was one of those girls. My friends and I would call each other every night to ask, "What are you wearing tomorrow? Are you wearing a bra?" "I don't know, are you? I will if you will" was the response. The daily torture was killing us. We had to find out once and for all if it was really time.
One of my friends read in a teen magazine that the best way to tell if you need a bra is to stick a pencil under one of your breasts. If it stays, you need a bra. If it doesn't, you don't. This news was exciting to us. Finally, we would have the long-awaited, much-anticipated answer! After all, this was a big decision. Apparently, one we didn't think could be reversed. It wasn't a tattoo for goodness sake, it was a bra. But I was in seventh grade. What did I know?
The next day, the three of us showed up at school, pencils in our backpacks. We met at our homeroom door and walked together to the bathroom. We walked in, checked to make sure we were alone, and headed into our own stalls. There was brief commotion as we all got situated, pencils ready. I called out, "Ok, ready? One, two, three." A half-second of silence, and then..."drop, drop, drop." No one said a word. We quickly gathered our things, and walked quietly out of the bathroom, no one admitting that our pencils dropped like lead to the ground. We never spoke of it again. Never called to ask if we were wearing bras. We just pretended the whole thing never happened.
Sometimes those memories just stick with you. They get tucked away in your mind, only to come out one day and make you laugh. I'll never forget that pencil test.
As I shared that with my friend today, she laughed and said, "Ha! If we stuck pencils there now, we'd forget about them and find them three months later!" Yeah, kids, life, and an extra 20 pounds can do that to a person.
I could share my first bra buying experience with you, but I'll spare you the embarassing details. Let's just say that a nervous 12-year old and a clueless, male, store clerk is not a good mix for buying your first bra. If you have daughters and will have to someday buy a bra with them, please make it as painless as possible!
Ok, I'm done talking about breasts. Just one last thing: don't forget to do your monthly breast self exam. Here's a link (with pics) if you're not sure how to do it:
Check back soon. I'll be posting my story, how I met my hubby, and stories about my little girls. Thanks for stopping by!