As you can see here, in my lovely 6th grade picture, I was demonstrating the typical fashion of that time. I had perfected the feathering technique of the glamorized mullet and you just weren't making a statement if you weren't wearing your polo-esque shirt with the alligator emblem and the collar sticking out of your matching sweatshirt. This statement was topped off with parachute pants, which I am sure I was wearing when this pic was taken. Sigh.... parachute pants. My pair were special. I remember if I stayed in direct sunlight too long, they would start to heat up and I swear there was a couple of times that they started smoking. They had various zippers and pockets, for my convenience, and were made of the most durable material known to man-kind... nylon. Sigh... parachute pants.
Not only BIG things were happening to me school wise and fashion wise in the 6th grade, but other things were happening to me. If you catch my drift. These were things that I had dreaded. I was not the typical pre-teen girl. I loathed the idea of a training bra, zits, hair under my pits and other places, and even worse...maxi pads. Insert loud horrific scream, right now!
A few months before the "training bra dilemma" Mrs. Bowman, the "health and science" teacher showed a special film. Before she showed the film, she threatened each of our immature 6th grade lives if there was any giggling or out bursts of laughter while the film was playing. Needless to say, Colby Erickson and I got kicked out to the hallway for giggling and bursting into laughter when the filmed showed the anatomy of the male body... when it was, you know? Um, how do I say this? Um, when that certain part of the male anatomy was vertical. Okay! I just burst into laughter again, when I flashbacked to the dreadful film! Are you going to kick me out of the room again Mrs. Bowman?!?!?!? Bring it lady!!!!!
I knew puberty was coming. The signs were there. The film, the way the parents were acting. I felt it. It was like a cloud lurking over my head and it wasn't going away!
One day, I woke up to something different. Let's just say, my shirts were not fitting like they use to. My mom had noticed. She began taunting me, "We need to get you a training bra!" I would run away with my hands over my ears. I thought, "If I just don't think about it or show my face around my mom, she'll stop bugging me to get a training bra." Yeah, that'll work genius.
For a month or so, I had managed to avoid the subject and my mom and went about my daily activities. One day, at school, I was standing in the lunch line, which was the busiest and most crowded time in the hallways of school, and I was chit chatting with a fellow classmate, named Dana. We were talking fashion. Neon colors were cool and the two of us just happened to be wearing neon hot pink striped shirts. I was also wearing a neon, hot pink, sweatshirt on top of the neon pink, striped, button down, shirt. I had the collars sticking up and out, just so, and the tails of the shirt were sticking out from underneath the sweatshirt. I was hot. Now Dana's striped shirt was a little different and I just had to let her know the difference, because it would mean I would be banished and ridiculed for wearing the same shirt as another 6th grade girl. I proceeded to lift up my rad sweat shirt to show her that my stripes were thinner. "See, my stripes are smaller and a little more pinker," I explained to Dana. I then looked down as I was demonstrating and thought, "Where did the hot pink stripes go?" It was at that moment when I saw them.... two, bare naked, torpedo like niblets jutting out. I immediately pulled my shirt down, and looked around to see if anyone had seen my puberty. Too late. Everyone saw! My male, married teacher turned around laughing. Rude. I saw Glen Butler pointing and laughing with his mouth gaped open. Dana burst into hideous laughter. I turned around, red faced and mortified. I'm still haunted by that event.
At that moment I knew I couldn't run away from my "dilemma" anymore. I also knew that if I had been wearing a training bra, everyone wouldn't have seen my bare naked puberty. Right after school, my mom and I went shopping. And came home with one of these. That is another story, in it's self. My poor mom.