I was well over 20 before I knew that. And not from direct experience.
Did you get the "too skinny" stuff too? Or were they less vigilant about anorexia in your day? I ate like a horse with worms and was still a scrawny size zero (and at the time, they didn't make those, so all my clothes were baggy - since I didn't want to show off my ribs anyway). So the school nurse was always extra vigilant about me possibly being a puker. Heaven forbid I get stomach flu.
Sure, *other girls* envied my figure - until I grabbed the nearest male and demanded an honest review, knowing I'd lose. "If I could just lose these ten pounds..." Those are your BOOBS and your FIGURE you idiot.
I bought a padded bra in high school because I might be an A cup, but puberty still made the nipples ache - and in UK rules soccer, you had to take chest shots full frontal, no blocking with arms like US rules (at least used to) do. And our star kicker's kicks HURT. I wasn't sure what I thought of the bra, but it worked for soccer practice - and then one day after soccer practice I realized I was wearing a sweater and my chest wasn't concave. Huh. This had possibilities, at least for formal occasions.
See, my genetic heritage was confusing - no women on Dad's side I could compare to and Mom's side were all the type who used to be skinny until about late puberty or pregnancy, when they put on weight and got at least some figure (B cups in a size 20, but something). So I knew boobs existed, and heard about things like underwires and boob sag, but wasn't sure if I'd ever have any. I did have hips, sort of - hipbones that stuck out, but bone structure on me meant I had some hips. I preferred the push-up bras because it made me a little more symmetrical than pear-shaped, and because all my clothes were two or three sizes too big and it was even harder to tell I was a girl. (When I wanted to look like a girl, anyway, which was for occasions.)
Ironically, I followed the pattern of my paternal aunt - skinny until severe illness hit. But I went up a cup size. I was ecstatic. Then I turned around and saw my butt and thighs. And realized none of my pants fit. I'm still adjusting, five years later - in some ways the wheelchair was easier than a 15% weight increase when I'd never fluctuated by more than two pounds in my life. I have *squishy bits*. And boobs. It's *weird*.
no subject
I was well over 20 before I knew that. And not from direct experience.
Did you get the "too skinny" stuff too? Or were they less vigilant about anorexia in your day? I ate like a horse with worms and was still a scrawny size zero (and at the time, they didn't make those, so all my clothes were baggy - since I didn't want to show off my ribs anyway). So the school nurse was always extra vigilant about me possibly being a puker. Heaven forbid I get stomach flu.
Sure, *other girls* envied my figure - until I grabbed the nearest male and demanded an honest review, knowing I'd lose. "If I could just lose these ten pounds..." Those are your BOOBS and your FIGURE you idiot.
I bought a padded bra in high school because I might be an A cup, but puberty still made the nipples ache - and in UK rules soccer, you had to take chest shots full frontal, no blocking with arms like US rules (at least used to) do. And our star kicker's kicks HURT. I wasn't sure what I thought of the bra, but it worked for soccer practice - and then one day after soccer practice I realized I was wearing a sweater and my chest wasn't concave. Huh. This had possibilities, at least for formal occasions.
See, my genetic heritage was confusing - no women on Dad's side I could compare to and Mom's side were all the type who used to be skinny until about late puberty or pregnancy, when they put on weight and got at least some figure (B cups in a size 20, but something). So I knew boobs existed, and heard about things like underwires and boob sag, but wasn't sure if I'd ever have any. I did have hips, sort of - hipbones that stuck out, but bone structure on me meant I had some hips. I preferred the push-up bras because it made me a little more symmetrical than pear-shaped, and because all my clothes were two or three sizes too big and it was even harder to tell I was a girl. (When I wanted to look like a girl, anyway, which was for occasions.)
Ironically, I followed the pattern of my paternal aunt - skinny until severe illness hit. But I went up a cup size. I was ecstatic. Then I turned around and saw my butt and thighs. And realized none of my pants fit. I'm still adjusting, five years later - in some ways the wheelchair was easier than a 15% weight increase when I'd never fluctuated by more than two pounds in my life. I have *squishy bits*. And boobs. It's *weird*.