Meg...
...She still tends to put it on when we are going out, but she seems pretty happy that she doesn't have to do it just for me. :)
I think that’s a good sign because it means that when she does it, she does it for herself. I think the bottom line IS that we really do it for ourselves. I don’t think anything else makes sense because we all like what we wear...and we all have some very different tastes. I might wear something that you wouldn’t be caught dead in and vice versa.
Anyway, the only time I specifically remember trying to impress any girls was in high school, but like I said, that’s silly because we all do have different tastes...but a lot of women try to stay in some mainstream type of fashion that is very uncomfortable and THAT I don’t get. I never, ever wore a pair of pointy toed shoes and you can’t make me.
I do remember stuffing a bra for a babysitter when I was eight. I say “a” bra because I didn’t own a bra at the time, I had to swipe my mothers‘. And...I put potatoes in the cups. I walked back and forth in front of Linda Huebner (the very perplexed baby-sitter, bless her heart.), my mother’s bra under my shirt, with a potato in each cup. I don’t know why I did that. But, somewhere about my third pass, a potato fell out of my shirt.
Other than that, the only time I ever stuffed was about the same time. I was riding in the back seat of the car wearing a blue turtle neck and for some reason, I stuffed my shirt, I didn't even have a bra to stuff...and sat up really high in my seat next to the window in an attempt to look grown up with tits to anyone who happened to look into the backseat of a wood paneled Country Squire Ford station wagon loaded with children. Once again, I don’t know why I did that.
My first bra was called the Grows as She Grows bra. It didn’t have cups...it had stretchy triangles. At that age, we girls are in too much competition with each other for armpit hair to worry about impressing boys.
I spent most of my adolescence competing with my cousin Elaine. Her family and mine were the only 2 of all of our family that lived in Illinois. Our families spent a lot of time together and she is a year younger than I am so she and I naturally became close. When had a few spats along the way though.
One day I was sitting on a 350 Honda after riding it on the dirt path where we rode before we were old enough to have licenses. I was sitting there in the middle of a group of guys and Elaine was right there. I was wearing a pair of red jeans that had wide black zippers down each leg and both zippers had a big black hoop at the top (What can I say? It was the 70’s.) All of a sudden, and for no reason at all, Elaine pulled my left zipper down as far as she could considering the way I was sitting on the bike.
I literally DOVE at her, ripping a hole in her shirt out of which fell her left boob, which was a substantial boob for a 14 year old. I had those pants when I was a sophomore in high school so I know she was 14, and rather large-chested. She was wearing one of those stretchy bubble type shirts with material little stronger than gauze.
You might be thinking that the boys were all getting quite a treat but no, they were not having any fun at all. They were trying to stop the motorcycle which was spinning where I dropped it with the handle-bar being the middle of the circle that the motorcycle was spinning in, digging deeper into the dirt with every cycle it completed.
Elaine and I finished our fight before they got the bike stopped so I pulled up my pants and she turned her shirt around before anyone saw a thing. (We thought, anyway...we never knew for sure.)
She and I used to take a train to each other’s house, when we had the 35 cents it cost to ride from Bensenville to Roselle back then. (Roselle wasn’t that far, it was just a few suburbs west of me. Once I was mailing a letter to her from the Bensenville Post Office and I asked if they could send it “Air Mail please.“ The post man dude responded very politely, “They don’t have any airplanes that fly between Bensenville and Roselle."
I felt pretty stupid on the way home, it took a while for me to figure out just how stupid that question was .)
The railroad tracks were in “uptown” Bensenville, an easy walk from my neighborhood. One weekend, we didn’t have any money but we wanted to go back to her house for something...I don’t remember what. We had no money for tickets so we decided to just start following the tracks all the way to Roselle.
We hadn’t walked very far when a freight train came by us. We were walking over to the side of the tracks and discussing how slowly the train was going. Bensenville was home to a round house, a place where there are a bunch of trains...they pull out from there. As slowly as it was going, we didn’t have to think very long before we both just jumped on the train. We sat in one of the empty freight cars and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Then Elaine said, “Does this train seem to be speeding up to you?”
What neither one of us had considered was the fact that the train was going so slowly because it hadn’t had a chance to build up any speed yet.
It quickly did.
We had no watches and we had no idea what time it was when we jumped that freight car so we had no way of knowing what time it was, where we were going, or if that train would stop before it reached the Golden Gate Bridge. We actually discussed that possibility. It took about an hour, but eventually, we just started crying. I think we cried for about another hour before we realized that we might be crying for a very, very long time. So, we stopped crying. Then we laughed some more, every so often we saw the humor in the situation.
And then it got dark. We cried and cried and cried.
That stupid train didn’t stop until Des Moines, Iowa. We sat in the station/office for another 8 hours (now we had a clock) waiting for Elaine’s parents to come and pick us up. We were starving and the only thing that those guys had to feed us were little vanilla ice cream cups with those flat wooden spoons. We ate a bunch of them in between more bouts of crying, we knew we were in some serious shit.
The ride home was quite a long one. We finally got home in time for dinner Sunday night. We had left early Saturday afternoon. As far as I know, her parents never told my parents, they were too “cool” for that.
My parents figured we went to Elaine’s house and Elaine’s parents didn’t know anything about it until we called them from Des Moines. So nobody even knew we were missing. Each parent thought we were at the other’s house.
When I was a kid, my mother kicked us out in the morning. We had to knock on the door to come back in. We absolutely had to ask before we could bring in a friend or use the telephone. But, we would leave the house early and not come home until dinner and nobody cared...they knew we were safe. Things sure have changed.
Well, I think I’m ready to go watch a movie or something, I’m pretty tired. See ya.
Meg
Just wanted to see if you were reading everything. :):):)
...She still tends to put it on when we are going out, but she seems pretty happy that she doesn't have to do it just for me. :)
I think that’s a good sign because it means that when she does it, she does it for herself. I think the bottom line IS that we really do it for ourselves. I don’t think anything else makes sense because we all like what we wear...and we all have some very different tastes. I might wear something that you wouldn’t be caught dead in and vice versa.
Anyway, the only time I specifically remember trying to impress any girls was in high school, but like I said, that’s silly because we all do have different tastes...but a lot of women try to stay in some mainstream type of fashion that is very uncomfortable and THAT I don’t get. I never, ever wore a pair of pointy toed shoes and you can’t make me.
I do remember stuffing a bra for a babysitter when I was eight. I say “a” bra because I didn’t own a bra at the time, I had to swipe my mothers‘. And...I put potatoes in the cups. I walked back and forth in front of Linda Huebner (the very perplexed baby-sitter, bless her heart.), my mother’s bra under my shirt, with a potato in each cup. I don’t know why I did that. But, somewhere about my third pass, a potato fell out of my shirt.
Other than that, the only time I ever stuffed was about the same time. I was riding in the back seat of the car wearing a blue turtle neck and for some reason, I stuffed my shirt, I didn't even have a bra to stuff...and sat up really high in my seat next to the window in an attempt to look grown up with tits to anyone who happened to look into the backseat of a wood paneled Country Squire Ford station wagon loaded with children. Once again, I don’t know why I did that.
My first bra was called the Grows as She Grows bra. It didn’t have cups...it had stretchy triangles. At that age, we girls are in too much competition with each other for armpit hair to worry about impressing boys.
I spent most of my adolescence competing with my cousin Elaine. Her family and mine were the only 2 of all of our family that lived in Illinois. Our families spent a lot of time together and she is a year younger than I am so she and I naturally became close. When had a few spats along the way though.
One day I was sitting on a 350 Honda after riding it on the dirt path where we rode before we were old enough to have licenses. I was sitting there in the middle of a group of guys and Elaine was right there. I was wearing a pair of red jeans that had wide black zippers down each leg and both zippers had a big black hoop at the top (What can I say? It was the 70’s.) All of a sudden, and for no reason at all, Elaine pulled my left zipper down as far as she could considering the way I was sitting on the bike.
I literally DOVE at her, ripping a hole in her shirt out of which fell her left boob, which was a substantial boob for a 14 year old. I had those pants when I was a sophomore in high school so I know she was 14, and rather large-chested. She was wearing one of those stretchy bubble type shirts with material little stronger than gauze.
You might be thinking that the boys were all getting quite a treat but no, they were not having any fun at all. They were trying to stop the motorcycle which was spinning where I dropped it with the handle-bar being the middle of the circle that the motorcycle was spinning in, digging deeper into the dirt with every cycle it completed.
Elaine and I finished our fight before they got the bike stopped so I pulled up my pants and she turned her shirt around before anyone saw a thing. (We thought, anyway...we never knew for sure.)
She and I used to take a train to each other’s house, when we had the 35 cents it cost to ride from Bensenville to Roselle back then. (Roselle wasn’t that far, it was just a few suburbs west of me. Once I was mailing a letter to her from the Bensenville Post Office and I asked if they could send it “Air Mail please.“ The post man dude responded very politely, “They don’t have any airplanes that fly between Bensenville and Roselle."
I felt pretty stupid on the way home, it took a while for me to figure out just how stupid that question was .)
The railroad tracks were in “uptown” Bensenville, an easy walk from my neighborhood. One weekend, we didn’t have any money but we wanted to go back to her house for something...I don’t remember what. We had no money for tickets so we decided to just start following the tracks all the way to Roselle.
We hadn’t walked very far when a freight train came by us. We were walking over to the side of the tracks and discussing how slowly the train was going. Bensenville was home to a round house, a place where there are a bunch of trains...they pull out from there. As slowly as it was going, we didn’t have to think very long before we both just jumped on the train. We sat in one of the empty freight cars and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Then Elaine said, “Does this train seem to be speeding up to you?”
What neither one of us had considered was the fact that the train was going so slowly because it hadn’t had a chance to build up any speed yet.
It quickly did.
We had no watches and we had no idea what time it was when we jumped that freight car so we had no way of knowing what time it was, where we were going, or if that train would stop before it reached the Golden Gate Bridge. We actually discussed that possibility. It took about an hour, but eventually, we just started crying. I think we cried for about another hour before we realized that we might be crying for a very, very long time. So, we stopped crying. Then we laughed some more, every so often we saw the humor in the situation.
And then it got dark. We cried and cried and cried.
That stupid train didn’t stop until Des Moines, Iowa. We sat in the station/office for another 8 hours (now we had a clock) waiting for Elaine’s parents to come and pick us up. We were starving and the only thing that those guys had to feed us were little vanilla ice cream cups with those flat wooden spoons. We ate a bunch of them in between more bouts of crying, we knew we were in some serious shit.
The ride home was quite a long one. We finally got home in time for dinner Sunday night. We had left early Saturday afternoon. As far as I know, her parents never told my parents, they were too “cool” for that.
My parents figured we went to Elaine’s house and Elaine’s parents didn’t know anything about it until we called them from Des Moines. So nobody even knew we were missing. Each parent thought we were at the other’s house.
When I was a kid, my mother kicked us out in the morning. We had to knock on the door to come back in. We absolutely had to ask before we could bring in a friend or use the telephone. But, we would leave the house early and not come home until dinner and nobody cared...they knew we were safe. Things sure have changed.
Well, I think I’m ready to go watch a movie or something, I’m pretty tired. See ya.
Meg
Just wanted to see if you were reading everything. :):):)
posted by Meg Kelso | 7:33 PM
1 Comments:
I love that story!
Ann
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