For as long as I can remember, my grandmother had her own business. Dress shops, located in the heart of downtown Oakland, “Mildred’s Fashions.” Mildred, my grandmother, was always busy with her stores and keeping her clientele fashionably dressed. I was in awe of the styles of the time; suits, dresses, pants, blouses, scarves, and jewelry. Bright colors, a variety of fabrics, some pieces I would have died to own, and others, I thought would be only for the older ladies who frequented her store. On the weekends, grandma would let me go to work with her and my job was to gift wrap cutomer purchases. I felt important. I felt needed.
As I grew into my awkward teen years, I developed a sense of fashion, or so I thought, thanks to my grandmother. Grandma frequently took me to market in San Francisco, where in the Franciscan Hotel, or was it the St. Francis, room after room were filled with sales people selling their fashions. Leslie Fay was always on the list to see and a favorite of grandmas. Was it because the salesman was so flirtatious? Was it because the salesman frequently commented on my slender, young body and encouraged me to become a model? But, it was the fashion mart where I decided that I wanted to be a model…I wanted to be beautiful…I wanted to be noticed.
I was always a flat chested teen, I suppose that would be acceptable in the modeling world. However, I was too short, awkward, and rarely caught the eye of my male counterparts. The clothes in grandma’s shop would sometimes fit my young, unshapely body. Imagine, a size 2! Except for those horrid “darts.” Those predetermined seams that would accentuate breasts, if one had them! Those womanly attributes that I sadly did not have! I often thought that I would love to replace my big mouth for breasts! A clevage to flaunt….but, this was not to happen. Grandma would always tell me that when I got older, I would have breasts. I couldn’t help but wonder how old I would be or how long I would have to wait.
Grandma has since closed her dress shops and sadly she passed away quite a while ago. And I, well, I struggle with fashion. I not only feel frumpy, I look frumpy! I don’t have a particular style, I need to wear flats as my feet ache at the thought of heels, and well, let’s just say I never did get those breasts my grandmother said I would get. After all, I am now in my early fifties and I am still waiting! If I wait much longer for breasts, what good will they be? They will only end up hoovering around my stomach, senslessly.
Ironically, what I have sprouted is a belly, big backside, and two rather oddly shaped saddle bags that rest just below my rump. What on earth happened? I suppose I could blame my body on my three children, after all, giving birth has a long term affect on one’s body….But that is another story all together. Perhaps I could blame these appendages on my big mouth…the mouth that enjoys being open to new foods and certainly is never closed for business when it comes to dessert! I am not saying, nor would my physician, that I am overweight….But simply taking on those maternally evident features of a quickly aging woman.
Well, grandma, I know you were only trying to help me grow up with some sort of self-esteem by telling me not to worry about being flat chested. I am all grown up now, children raised, grandchild on the way, and still waiting for breasts. Now when I try on clothes, the darts are the last of my worries as they seem to be a stitch of the past. Now, I must make accommodations for the other attributes I have acquired since I have grown up…..or is it grown out?
