My Sister's Bra

Two weeks before going into my second year of high school I turned sixteen, a year older than most of my classmates. Over the summer I had fashioned a bra out of my sister's bra that she had left behind. I cut the tips off and sewed elastic to them, then stuffed them with toilet paper. I stopped wearing my glasses, except those times when I needed to see, and my face was growing bigger which made my enormous two front teeth look smaller. But I was still invisible to Mike, Bobby, Gary, Gary, and Johnny. The flame for Ronny Coal dimmed to a flicker but did not go out since he graduated and left for college.

Boobs (albeit fake) and no glasses were baby steps of progress toward "attractiveness to the opposite sex" which gave me hope that someday, just maybe, I'll have a boyfriend, too, just like all my girlfriends. But little did I know that I was four long years away from that happening.