Before wearing a maxi-push-up concrete, Amélie had to buy her first bra. And it’s not really happened as she had planned.
It happens a lot of stuff in the life of a girl growing up. From one day to the next, she likes more same things and realizes that his body is transformed, like asuperhero but without the cool powers.
I went through this period a little strange X-Men. One morning, I woke up without wanting to recite the table of 4 to my stuffed animals. I just woke up, I threw my jar of Nutella by the window, I drank a cappuccino without adding any sugar and I have become a big girl.
Finally, almost, because it wasn’t what was waiting for me.
As a result, my body decided to store fat for the winter in my hips or even to grow a thin fuzz on my calves, as if I had not quite warm with tights. At puberty, the body thinks the prehistory! Seriously, who could explain to him that it is only mammoth-skin loincloths? Need us more turn the armpits in Cousin thing we’re in 2014.
In this vein, I could make the acquaintance of the fluid that ignites your underwear and (especially) to blood once a month, this vile current which always decides to disembark relou, who slips through the tissue and gives the impression to your stomach have to brave a gastro for 6 days at a time.
But even after having managed to tame my rules out of Tampax, I wasn’t yet at the end of my sentences.
Two mountains have decided to push gently under my shirts in the clothing market. They are not arrived there without shouting station as two shells in the no man’s land, but I still really saw the thing coming. Actually, it went from ‘funny conical fat mass’ to ’90B’ in less than a year. Needless to say it was a little shock.
Before you even begin to have breasts, I had already only one thing in mind: buy a smart bra. From then on, I lived for this ultimate goal, the Holy Grail: keeping my breasts with twenty centimetres of stretch cotton.
The BRA, or the idealization of a piece of cloth
In my school, I was friends with a very friendly girl. I was in the swimming pool in summer and we recorded covers of Lorie on a tape recorder with microphone Playskool. We were like the fingers of a hand… until the day when she decided to take the road of Fame. The boys turned in its path while girls crushed me to go talk to him.
This remake of the poor of Mean Girls in the courtyard of the CM2 was due to one single thing: she had decided to wear a bra.
It’s the story of my life, the eternal cycle.
Well, ok, it is a big word. At this point, add any layer above the navel under his shirt was an undergarment. To use the right words, my girlfriend was a bra, approaching more than a Wonderbra to my primary.
As time progressed, more girls around me gave way to the call of the balcony.They have strutted in the locker room with their triangles viscose stamped snips.It seemed wonderful. With a bra, there was a new world for me. He was full of adventures, of dangerous games, DM to make late, filling jug aluminum hours to wait in school life. In short, the college, it would be in my BRA, or without me.
The purchase of neurosis
As I’ve never been on the side Miss Pechos of force, arriving in 6th grade, I had as much need of a bra than a sock dirty having brought by Emmanuel Moire. Yetneeded me one, it was a matter of honor.
There were never taboo in my family. I was raised in the communication and respect for all. However, when we were twelve years old, see evil chatting about the growth potential of the nipples with her mother. I therefore didn’t talk to him about my quasi-vital need to cover my chest. She told me it was a little early, we would see when I need it.
She was totally right.
I have always been a stubborn girl and stubborn. If I were a fly, I’d be coming to graze you the face stroking you gently skin – just enough to get you need to scratch. And comes back when you get her out. Otherwise it’s not funny.
As my mother was (good) reasons to not accompany me to the lingerie Department, I turned to the person most likely to rush headlong: my grandmother.A small rant later and we were driving, direction the nearest supermarket, ready to sublimate my bust.
A few dollars later, I was the proud owner of a marine blue bra in big rubber band adorned with a beautiful “55” superimposed. The height of the class, for a fan ofDegrassi. I was satisfied. I had a bra, and that it was really better than any self-adhesive earring.
Hello, MOM, bobo?
I didn’t dare tell my mother that I was a new person immediately. I necessarily expect a negative reaction, a bit like when she refused to buy me a toy and that someone else is quick to send me. I was thinking about anything but that.
I remember that she had come to say good night, as all the Nice mothers tend to do. Timidly, I lifted my shirt and launched a completely detached air: ” Hey look what Grandma bought me .” ».
I saw his head decompose. This is the first time that I couldn’t decrypt emotion on his face. I saw in his eyes the sadness, anger and disappointment. She got up without saying a word she left, slamming the door. I had disobeyed, a kid zero.
Shared between the shame, the vexation and joy, I had yet add a new drawer to my wardrobe. I continued to live, my breasts were swollen and I became expert in lace and other removable suspenders. My mother more told me about the incident.
Lizzie McGuire and the feeling of a missed Act
I was always a big fan of Lizzie McGuire. I was this girl who was rushing home to prepare his bowl of cereal and not to miss his daily episode.
One of the fictitious stories of this dear Hilary Duff made me smile: Lizzie and Miranda decided to buy their first bra in scred. Inevitably, they were having by their parents, surprised.
Yet the mother of Lizzie reacted in a way that seemed obvious: she was super happy and proud to share this with her daughter.
The first BRA, it’s still important in the life of a future wife. It’s a Cape that my mother would have wanted to spend with me. She waited for him, a bit like a small step to climb next to all the things we did together. Has felt taken by surprise. He was robbed of that moment. And it was super violent for her.
When I realized this, I myself to death. I wanted to go back in time to buy wholeEtam with her. I have dreamed of walking on the shelves looking for the right size, find the perfect bra, one I’d worn proudly and that I would have kept in a small box story I remember forever, and why not, being buried with.
In hindsight, my mother explained to me that she did not want: I had a reaction of little girl. It was my grandmother to understand that these things were to be done with my mother, with my inner self, but maybe not with her. She would have to explain it to me.
I found it a little sad for everyone, so. Besides, my bra is not made me so much cooler.
Meanwhile, with my mom, is instead actually remitted. She is caught up in explaining to me how to put those horrors of towels-hygienic-way-layer-panties, showing me how to recover an old mascara dry and refuel LPG. In short, we got to have fun.
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