Overflowing is Right...

I was a late bloomer, physically speaking.  I was always short and skinny, small, and looking younger than I actually was.  Being obsessed with Madonna didn’t help, as there was no way I ever thought I would be able to fill out a bustier the way she did.  I even stuffed my bra once.

Be careful what you wish for.

I developed much later than my friends, toward the end of high school and even into college.  With my 20^th high school reunion coming up in a couple of months, I’m nervous that my former classmates may think I’ve had some, shall we say, enhancements.  (I’m happy to note, for the record, that I have not.  If I did, my height would be the only thing about me I’d want to change.  But, alas, that’s not yet possible – without stilettos, anyway.)

Suffice it to say there was a bit of an awkward transition in my early 20s trying to get used to my “new” body.  Some embarrassing and inappropriate outfits ensued, but I learned.  I know now what works and what doesn’t, and I’m still somewhat self-conscious about it (as evidenced by the sequined pink top noted in my last post).

This afternoon I was on the Internet and came across photos of the New York City red carpet premiere of Sarah Jessica Parker’s new movie, “I Don’t Know How She Does It.”  The article focused on actress Christina Hendricks, who also stars in the movie.  She was wearing a pink satin Vivienne Westwood dress, and the title – in large, bold, capital letters – was, “CHRISTINA HENDRICKS SHOWS OFF MASSIVE CLEAVAGE ON RED CARPET.”

I sat mortified, staring at the computer, utterly dumbfounded.

I’ve spent years trying to cover up, figure out, work around, minimize, and detract from what other women are splashing across the red carpet for the world to see.  I know there’s nothing new under the sun.  But I couldn’t stop thinking about that headline.  Who – I mean, WHO – on earth would want that headline splashed about them?  If it was my name instead of hers, I would DIE of shame.

I need to find a turtleneck immediately.

OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.