As a 13-year old girl, I started dancing in my room while no one was watching. I was coming out of my tomboy years, more out of necessity than desire; I had developed huge breasts.
In Jr-High, I was chosen as cheerleader at the try-outs. It was apparent that I did not get votes for my gymnastic skills. I could not do flips, cartwheels, backbends or splits. What I could do is jump up and down, and I could yell thunderously. The boys from the hood started to see me in a new light. They were totally on board for seeing me in a short, pleated skirt while actively bouncing up and down. There has never been a support bra designed to keep my breasts from performing their own dance. I was a shoe-in for the cheerleading squad because of my 36 D’s.
Dances happened after many of the Friday night ball games. As if my breasts had not just had enough activity, I brought out my practiced dance moves, which were anything but conventional. I did not have a mirror in my room, so I was unaware as to how anyone would perceive my creative movements. Besides, I didn’t give a hoot. I was still tomboy enough to kick the crap out of anyone who challenged my originality.
The Shimmy was a controversial dance in the 60’s, at least in my home. It was tailor-made for my large breasts. I would hold my arms out from my sides and shake my shoulders vigorously side-to-side. That was one dance move in my repertoire. The other moves were just that; moves that made my body feel free. These actions seemed to rivet the eyes of most of the 13-14-year-old boys standing on the sidelines of the dance floor. Their awareness of me was not my singular goal, but it did create a side effect. Most of the girls started following my lead because of the attention I was garnering.
I was redefining my idea of who I was, and liked myself regardless of snide remarks from of a few girls that were jealous of the interest the boys showed toward me. I didn’t wear makeup, dress in the latest fashion or use flattery to win the fellas favors. I was just me; the girl that could whip almost everyone in leg wrestling, run fast, jump high and my most treasured talent: blow on my two fingers to create an ear-splitting whistle.
In Sr-High, my popularity had grown beyond my physical endowments, and being a ‘groovy’ dancer. Admiration for my attitude of feeling good about me and others, and dancing from my heart, not my head, accounts for others liking me. What comes from the heart, reaches the heart!
My breasts have grown exponentially with age, and I still dance almost daily. I am not saying, “I’m all that and a bag of chips”, but at class reunions, those boys, now 50-years older, still like to watch me dance.
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