When I was a young girl I wanted boobs. ..I didn’t want boobs like Dolly Parton, but more like Farrah Fawcett. The famous swimsuit poster of “Farrah” that was prominently displayed in my brother’s room gave me daily inspiration and hope that someday soon, I would have her figure.
I knew my fate on “figure” could take on two very different paths.
I could inherit the figure of Mema Doris who was flat as a pancake, or I could inherit the “big bosom” of Grandma Polly and Big Grandma Plummer. I hoped for the big bosom side of my family genes. I think initially, I only dreamt of having boobs, because I wanted to wear a bra.
My first bra purchase happened when I was in the 2nd grade. Jana Hill who lived across the street from me in East Texas had a garage sale. She was cool, she was a teenager, and she wore bras. As I dismissed the idea of buying a great steal like a Barbie for 2 quarters or Mary Kay lipstick samples, I found my garage sale dream…It was a bra…a 36B that I could have wrapped around my torso twice, but I WANTED a bra! (I knew my mother would never buy me one at my age, so I had to be resourceful.) I purchased the bra for a quarter and skipped home to try it on. Upon the realization that I didn’t fill it out, I used safety pins to wrap it around my undeveloped torso and had to remedy the unfilled cups with the next best thing…toilet paper!
I became a pro at toilet paper filled bras, and really enjoyed my new figure as I approached 2nd grade. Of course my brothers taunted me, because they knew my secret of Charmin enhanced curves.
My bra debut was planned for Summer Vacation Bible School. Filled with toilet paper and secured with safety pins, I strategically wore a sheer shouldered dress, so everyone could see my new “development” through the dress. Mid-day thru Vacation Bible School, I encountered a wardrobe malfunction. My diaper sized safety pin sprung open, and began stabbing me in the back. I was too embarrassed to tell my teacher what had happened, or that I needed help fixing my unnecessary bra. I sustained the puncture and the pain for the remainder of the day. When leaving VCB, I approached my mother’s car. She was unaware of my wardrobe secret or the tragedy it caused. As I approached the car in tears with an arched back to minimize the piercing torture on my back, she asked, “What in the world happened in Vacation Bible School? did they scare you about burning in hell again? I began crying harder and said “No, it’s not Satan…my bra broke and the safety pin is stabbing me in my back!”
Every morning I would look in the mirror to see if I was any closer to looking like Farrah. It was becoming clear to me that I was destined for the “flat” side of family genes. On my back to school physical visit to enter 3rd grade, I asked my doctor about boob doctors. I had heard in Lindale that there were “fancy” doctors in Dallas that did something with “plastic” to give unblessed women Farrah-like boobs. I asked my pediatrician how much he thought that would cost. He winked at my mom and said, “Kelli, plastic boobs will cost you about $10,000. Do you have $10,000?” I said no, but between my lemonade stand, house cleaning, pot holder sales, & weed pulling services, I could probably save it. He said “Wouldn’t you rather buy a car with that $10,000 and wait for nature to take its course?” I pondered on that and yes, I wanted a car when I became a teenager, but I wanted boobs more.
I remember reading a book by Judy Blume called “Are you there God, It’s Me Margaret?” The book captured my emotional state of wanting to grow up and out and experience the teenage wonders of starting my period and saying goodbye to my bra “stuffing” days. In the book, Margaret starting taking her development issues to her creator, and began to pray to God to start her period, and begin the process of “blooming”.
I figured if it worked for Margaret in the book, it might work for me, so I turned to prayer…I prayed for my period, and I prayed for boobs.
God answered my first prayer on my first day of Junior High. I started my period and ruined my highly planned “back to school” outfit before 9a. I remember calling my grandma Polly to come pick me up and rescue me from my humiliation.
God began answering the prayer for boobs in high school where I “blossomed” into a full “C cup” After graduating high school and entering college, I became a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader as well rounded “D” cup.
Once Grandma Polly recognized that I had been “blessed” with her bosom, she was insistent that I only buy good support bras from Sears & Roebuck to hold up my tissue!
Fast forward to marriage and babies… All my friends said you’ll lose your boobs if you breast feed. I did breast feed and I didn’t lose anything except my waistline.
D, then DD, then DDD. One professional bra fitter in Nordstrom took a tape measure to me and said, “Girl, you’re an “F” cup.
I know now, what the “F” stands for in bra sizing….What the “F” happened to my boobs.
God ANSWERED my prayers.
The other day, I went to a “plastic surgeon” to research about a breast reduction. When I asked him how much it would cost to take me down a cup or 2, my childhood memory flashed thru my head. He said, “Kelli, a breast reduction to take you to down to a “C” cup is probably gonna run you about $10,000…
God does answer prayers…
Kelli Finglass 