My mom could be mean.
I don’t think she meant to be but she would say things that would strike fear in my soul and make me quake and quiver.
“You are going to be just like Aunt Lorraine.” Now how many Aunt Lorraine’s could you have in a family? I got lucky, I had two. And neither of them were good candidates to emulate.
My great-aunt Lorraine was an unmarried, manly looking, high school music teacher. Can we say spinster? Yeah. She never married and I never, ever heard of her ever having a boyfriend or sex partner. She was married to her “career”. Hindsight, I think she played for the other team but could never act on it. Damn Catholicism! She was a great person and really cared about her students and lived with my Great Grandma until my aunt passed away.
So when my mom said that I was going to follow after Aunt Lorraine, it couldn’t happen. I have no musical talent whatsoever. I cannot sing, I can’t play any instruments. Oh, and I was just a teensy, eensy boy crazy.
Oh, okay! Jeez! A lot boy crazy!
Seriously though? My musical talent? Worse than none. Singing to JC when she was 2? She would cover her ears and say “Stop, mommy! Don’t sing!”
So I really didn’t think my mom would think that would be her, right?
Then I looked to the other side of the family, to my other Aunt Lorraine. This option scared me the most. Let’s just say the boob gene was very strong on her side of the family. And this thought terrified me even at an early age.
See, I was in 4th grade when my girls started to develop. Try being the first girl in your class to get boobs. And to top it off, my mom was against buying me a “real” bra! My first bra was this lycra, stretchy piece of shit that didn’t do anything but make them look like cones. I could have dealt with Madonna cones but these were mushy sugar cone boobs. Yeah, nice visual huh? You are welcome.
Really mom? What was your problem with this? I dreamed of buying one of those bras from the JcPenney Catalog with the little pink flower at the X between the cups. But no…that never happened. Maybe she was on to something though. The first girl to get one of those bras in my class is now reportedly a dominatrix madame in NYC. Something to think about. Probably has something to do with my obsession with cute bras to this day.
Back to Aunt Lorraine’s boobs. It was a big thing to go to their cabin in the summer. We always had a great time there. And you know what? They had a sauna. We are Finnish in heritage. We love our saunas! Saunas are best in the nude. In case you didn’t know that.
One beautiful Saturday afternoon, my cousin Patty and I were running around the yard at the cabin just being pains in the asses to our brothers and we see her mom go into the sauna. Kids are voyeurs. They like to spy on people. So what do we do? We sneak up to the window, crouched down so nobody can see us. Especially her mom. The last thing we want to do is get caught spying on someone in the sauna.
Kneeling under the window, snickering. We slowly straighten our legs, turn out faces towards the window. Cup our hands around our eyes so we can see in.
Scarred for life. I still get scared just thinking about it.
Was this what my mom was talking about? Is this what she meant when she said I was going to be just like Aunt Lorraine? Had she seen this before? I think hard. No, there is no way she could have known. Right? Why would she ever wish that on anyone? To wish that on anyone was horrible. But then, my mom was the original sassy bitch and this just proves it.
Please take it back mom…please? I will be really good. I won’t bug my brothers. Anything! Just don’t say it again. If you don’t say it, it won’t happen. I will do all the laundry, the dishes. I will clean the floor by the toilet. Anything.
Dinner plates.
Nipples the size of dinner plates. Fucking dinner plates! You could have had a 3 course meal on them and had room for dessert. She had the most massive boobs ever. They were real. Real big, real weird and really, really ugly. They had to have been at least KK cups.
You can understand my horror when I had boobs in 4th grade. when I was a C cup in 7th grade, I was even more mortified. Mortified that I was destined to be like Lorraine. So scared that I actually learned about breast reduction and plastic surgery using encyclopedias.
Just. In. Case.
I wanted to be prepared.
Just in case I grew to have dinner plate nipples.
I'm a Sassy Blonde 