HELL IS JUST HEAVEN WITH A DRESS CODE

My mother had to show me how to put it on and adjust the shoulder straps. I tried pulling all the flesh I could find on my trunk to form some bumps to fill the cups and if I hunched over like Quasimodo most of the wrinkles in the bra cups weren't so obvious. I wore that bra 23 1/2 hours a day. I didn't shower in it but that was because I was afraid it would shrink and then it wouldn't work. It started to look like it was made of zebra skin. I did convince my Mom that I needed at least 2 more so I wouldn't be traumatized when it absolutely needed to be washed. I was 12 years old.

Some of my friends had bras that didn't ride up to the neck when they raised their arms, and no wrinkles in the front. I longed to be of Italian or Spanish descent. These were the girls who went to sleep in a flat fronted undershirt and woke up in the morning with CLEAVAGE!!! I had an Irish chest. Seemed to me that Irish girls didn't get real boobs until the third or fourth pregnancy. I was convinced that I was doomed to remain a "Carpenters Dream". (I wasn't really sure what that meant but I heard that description applied to girls whose bras also had a tendency to ride up to the neck.)

My best friend and I compared bras. Hers were almost concave too but they had a little edge of lace and a tiny satin bow in the middle. This was a moment of illumination! There were different kinds of bras! WOW!!!

Pauline and I whined, moped and carried on so we could get our allowance paid ahead and we went SHOPPING!!! Until that time we only shopped for comic books, sunflower seeds and bubble gum. Now we were in the big time. We went to Woolworths where they had bras right out on the counter and you could pick them up and handle them and the salesgirl didn't say anything like "Who are you kidding?"

We had nothing to put in the bras that were displayed like the seven veils of Salome. We had no idea of what we needed but we knew that we didn't want the ones that said "Training Bra". They had the ballerinas and some even had Teddy Bears. Yuck.

Our mothers were the ones who picked out and paid for our clothes so we didn't have a clue how to buy something as revolutionary as a Brassiere. Here was a counter with a selection of "Over the shoulder boulder holders" and they had HILLS in the front! Woo-Hoo!!! If we bought these bras we would automatically grow the honkers to fill them. We just KNEW IT.

The salesgirl was about 17 and she had on a sweater with HOWITZERS in the front. This chick obviously knew her bras. She also knew that she had two 12 !/2 year old girlies in front of her and they had 5 dollars between them. These were the days when bras were only about $1.50 for some of the plainer white cotton ones. The ones from Exquisite Form were engineered like the Golden Gate bridge with miles of stitching circling the cups. I still think that the "57 Chevy was designed by Exquisite Form, at least the front bumper was.

We giggled about the black bras. Our mothers didn't have a black bra. We kind of knew that good girls didn't wear black bras. See, Pauline's dad had a deck of playing cards with pictures of ladies wearing black bras and even,(OH MY GOD!) black girdles!! Her mother had caught us playing Go Fish with them and she screamed, grabbed them and yelled at her husband for "Leaving these pictures of HARLOTS" where we could find them. We didn't know what a Harlot was but we knew they wore black underwear.

The salesgirl finally noticed us and stopped snapping her gum. (She was so sophisticated and worldly wise.) "What size do yez kids want?" Uh-Oh... Size???

Size of bra?? We were out of our league. She motioned us to the open end of the counter, turned us around and reached under our shirts, grabbed the back of the bra and flipped it over, announced "Yer a 30 AAA." checked Pauline's and got the same result. She whipped out a tape measure, standard equipment for a salesgirl, and ran it around where we might some day have a bust. She squinted at us and sighed. She must've known not to try the ballerina or teddy bears and she sold us each a white cotton bra with targets of circular stitching around each cup. They cost $1.98 each. She then looked around to see if anyone was watching...Nope. The coast was clear. Reaching under the counter she pulled out a round plastic container. In it was two foam rubber thingys with small bumps on the apex of each. "Falsies" she whispered. We stared at them and then turned our puzzled eyes to hers. "You stick 'em in the bra so it fits better. I wear them all the time." We then gazed at the mighty howitzers encased in her sweater. HOLY COW!! This was instant puberty! We were on our way to Hollywood!... Straight from Woolworths! The falsies cost $1.25 and we managed to get the extra change from our lint encrusted pockets.

We ran up Broad street to the Ladies room at the train station. This was the official changing room for all the girls of Elizabeth, New Jersey. This was where they would put on gallons of make-up and huge dangling earrings. You changed into the clothes you kept hidden from your mother because she said , "Only Juvenile Delinquents dress like that." Everyone over 13 had a purse the size of a Buick to stash your finery. We were still too young to have anything but badly fitting bras and 1 set of falsies. WAIT A MINUTE,,, ONE set of falsies? For TWO chestless girls?? Time for a summit conference!

We argued over who had contributed the most linty change. Neither of us was sure. We did Rock,Paper. Scissors about 20 times. Mexican stand off. (By the way, Pauline? I have since discovered that scissors DO NOT CUT ROCKS!) With Solomon-like equity we each took one falsie and filled the other empty cup with toilet paper. The kind of paper you find in public toilets in train stations. You know. the scratchy stuff? Makes crinkly noises? Remember?

We strutted out of the train station like 2 peacocks. Both of us with one rubber tit and 1/2 roll of toilet paper. It felt and sounded like wax paper, scrunchy. BUT... We had just become GIRLS!!!! Not kids, not little girls, not sweety pies..... DAMN!! we were now...........GIRLS WITH TITS!!!!!

The double pair of gym socks came after Pauline's dog ate her falsie.

Swampetta