OCR Text |
Show Star Wars cards for Karen's old ones. They were dirty and the elastic shot, but I loved them nonetheless. What my mother couldn't seem to understand-probably because I never actually told her this-was that I was the only one in the seventh grade who didn't wear a bra, made painfully evident by the very thin fabric of our white uniform shirts. Even Kelly Murphy, equally flat chested, had a mother who loved her enough to buy her cotton camisoles. All around me, boys were snapping bras. All around me, the shadow of lycra boasted under the other girls' blouses. As I did with my underarm hair, I concealed what I could not control. In the heat of the tropics, recess spent on tarmac, uniform skirts made of sturdy wool, I took to wearing a black Members Only jacket all the time. With it on, no one could say whether I was wearing a bra or not. There were days when I was not even sure. In an act of desperation, I left a note for my mom on her pillow asking her for a bra for Christmas. I chose some of my special stationery-pink paper in the shape of an owl that my aunt and uncle had given me years before. The note read simply: Mom, can I please have a bra for Christmas. She never mentioned having found it. Perhaps it was intercepted by my father or one of my brothers. I didn't ask. For Christmas I received a skateboard. 157 |