This is a struggle of human versus nature. The author fights to accept what she cannot change and still make the best of her biggest 'deformity'.
I was 12 when I got to the point in life where my body started changing. When I hit puberty, it hit me hard. I slammed into that huge concrete wall of blemished skin and foul body odor at high speed. The hair on my legs seemed to grow darker daily, my feet spread to the size of a sasquatch, and I got more plump as the year went on. But these minor changes were nothing to the bigger things yet to happen.
On a warm September morning in 7th grade, I sluggishly got ready for school and came downstairs to shovel down breakfast and sprint to the bus stop. My mother was at the table drinking her morning coffee and looked at me. She grimaced and wasted no time telling me that I needed a bra. I was absolutely ecstatic.
I have boobs! I have boobs!!!! I kept thinking joyously as I skipped to the bus stop. My mother and I went out shopping for my first bra. I was so ecstatic, I insisted I wore it home. I was so proud. I was finally turning into a woman. My mother and I came home from our shopping trip and retired to the living room.
Mom suggested we put on the clothes we bought to show my father. I pranced around showing my new jeans and shirts when my mother told me to show my dad the bra. I vehemently said no over and over again for the sake of modesty. We argued until the final blow came. She angrily said to me, "I don't know why you won't show him your bra, you have nothing to hide."
You remember the saying "Be careful what you wish for"? Yeah, I wish I heard that when I prayed that I would get large breasts. In the next few months, my cup size changed drastically. I went from an A cup to a D cup in three months. In no way shape or form was that wish a blessing.
I could no longer fit into shirts I wanted to or else I looked like a porn star or even worse, Britney Spears. In Marshalls, I would sometimes have a major celebrity-like breakdown in the dressing room because my mother told me I looked like a streetwalker. She comforted me usually, but she had no idea how hard it was to see every other girl in the latest clothes, while I looked like a frump. I seemed obese in my oversized turtlenecks and the baggy tees, which hung over my breasts. Sometimes, I tricked my mom, getting her to buy something which was form fitting, but only bad consequences came from that.
Now everyone saw them. From the 90 year-old at my church, to the kids at a mentally slow school I helped out with, and especially boys. It was nice, you know, having guys like you and saying that you are pretty even though they only wanted you in bed. I was a sucker for those guys. I never thought myself beautiful and the only way to get a guy was to flaunt my ginormous breasts. Though I never gave my virginity away, the guys had some kind of fascination. It seemed all of them were in a race and feeling me up was the trophy.
One guy remixed Kellis' Milkshakes so it sounded like 'Mozy's milkshakes bring me to the yard and I'm like I wanna f*** her damn right I'm gonna f*** her.'
Even my family made jokes about them. On Thanksgiving, we were having a huge celebration. So big we had no room to put our plates on to the table. My uncle, already drunk laughed and said,"Mozy won't have any trouble, she can just set it on her rack."
I was shocked my family could see them. So then I vowed, no more tight shirts, even to school.
I met a boy in my sophomore year who was probably the cutest thing you had ever seen. He was nice and kind and just so perfect to me, that before he got the question 'Do you want to go out with me?' out, I stopped him at the 'Do you want' and answered yes.
One day, we had dress up day for school and since everything was in the wash, I pulled out a tight little black turtleneck. I went onto the bus and noticed everyone stared at me. At the time, I had no idea why since I forgot all about my distortion. I secretly wondered if I had egg on my face and brushed off any trace of egg.
I came through the doors and my friend, Kaitlin exclaimed, "Omigawd! I thought you were flat!"
Oh, thats what they were staring at. My boobs. Awesome.
The boys who were popular asses tried to flirt with me the whole day. People in the hallways were taking a second look at me and even my friends told me I was lucky. I certainly didn't feel it.
I nearly broke down in science class when my teacher took a cell phone away from a popular ass, then read it to the class.
"'Goddamn'," she started, "Mozy's jugs are huge, I just want to...'"
She broke off and told the guy to see her after class.
I hated it! I hated the constant attention, the constant staring, the continual list of things I couldn't wear. I dashed off crying and my boyfriend found me.
"Whats wrong?" he asked concerned.
"They're too big!" I answered heatedly.
"What?" he asked quizzically.
"My boobs! Everyone is staring at my boobs! I hate them! No one knows the real me. They stare at them as though they were two fucking tumors on my chest! I bet even you wanted me for them!" I wailed.
"No," he said. "I don't. And you'd be crazy to think that. You are beautiful, Mozy, gorgeous!"
"Ok I wouldn't go that far," I sniffed.
"Mozy, you are smart enough to know I love your personality, the real you. Some people were just surprised, others are just ... dumbfucks. Screw them and anyone else who is like that. You know? They are stupid! So screw them!"
He was right! Screw them! Screw popular ass! Screw the 90 year-old! Screw everyone who doesn't want me for me! I shouldn't care! I was filled with determination to get over my fear, but the road of recovery is long. I still struggle with the daily shopping challenges and occasional perverted old guy. I gained my confidence slowly but surely, still a little miffed to see someone staring at my beastly lumps, but getting over it faster. Hopefully soon, I will come to the ultimate point where I just don't care what others think. I will love me for me, no matter what deformities.