I like it when people tell you that you don’t have any titties. I forgive them. My sister, who’s 18 years younger than I am, was only 10 when she pointed at my chest and said ‘you don’t have NO tit-tays!’ And my mom, she’s extremely complimentary regarding everything about me, so it didn’t really count when she said, while I was getting dressed: “Oh my, you didn’t get any at all.” At the café where I work, as I approached the register with my grilled Panini, my friend, the worker in the cafe teased, “where your titties at girl?” So I told her with a bravado-tinged inflection, “I don’t need titties because I’m that good.” Sometimes when I see a sexy flat-chested woman (Hey, buddy, they do exist!) I’m thinking, wow, you know it’s kind of cool to not have any because all the energy is focused you know, down there. Well, this is what I tell myself.
I do have something there. I’m not flat as a board – they just might not be that noticeable if you’re standing far away from me and your vision isn’t good. Maybe then I could be mistaken for a man. Back when, I used to get really thin for a period of time – I’d smoke lots of cigarettes, run, walk and ride my bike everywhere – you can do that in your twenties without keeling over. My figure might have been described as boyish. A woman quite a few yards away in the locker room at the gym yelled out “There’s a man in here!” as she pointed in my direction. I have a sense of humor so I didn’t cry over it. As a kid, the boys called me “Chester.” But damn if I wasn’t confused when the neighborhood early-developed girl with the big ones said, “Wait, they call me “Chester.” These little dudes needed to get their shit straight – how in the hell do you recycle an epithet like that?!
When I was eleven I was with my little friends who talked about just getting theirs after winter. It was springtime. My one friend — this is so sweet — she says to me, nodding, “Don’t worry, you’ll get yours too, probably after next winter…” Well, I’m waiting. Though I hear that there is time because sometimes in menopause they grow. But then it would be too fucking late!
I had at one time, long ago in my youth, thought about breast implants. I figured God didn’t program me for big titties because it would be too much for people to take, why, with me being such a nymph already – I jest! But seriously folks, I learned not to give a damn, which is the attitude most older people have to take about shortcomings, because we’ve reluctantly accepted that we don’t have a @#*! choice anyway! Dad told me not to get breast implants. He said that I needed to surround myself with different types of people and to expand my mind and to be more creative about the way that I perceived myself – I really only just added that last part – because it seemed to be in the gist of what he was saying anyway.
The titty-less thing happened when I put a curse on myself. When I was 11, I told my cousin Nay Nay that when I turned13 like she was then, mine would be bigger than hers. Somebody shoulda tol’ me — could this not be more hilarious?! My cousin didn’t let me live that one down for a while! I guess my cousin could say that karma’s a bitch, but I’ve got another word to the wise for the prepubescent girls of America – okay now look this up – it’s hubris!