When I was in high school, one hundred years ago, I was NOT an ugly duckling.
I have NOT since morphed into a beautifully fashionable, redheaded vixen, who just so happens to be UNboastful and UNprideful.
But I DIgress.
Back to the hell of puberty:
I did NOT have lesbian hair (NOT that there is anything wrong with that!).
I had NO fashion sense whatsoever.
I did NOT wear makeup. NONE.
I was NOT a complete and utter dork.
I was NOT a bookworm.
I was NOT a tomboy.
I was NOT as flat-chested as a two by four.
And I NEVER,
stuffed cottonballs into a bra I had NO reason to wear.
On the third day after giving birth to my first child, when my milk 'came in', I did NOT run butt-naked towards my husband screaming:
"Look at THESE!"
"They are HUGE!"
I did NOT go shirtless and braless all day.
I did NOT stare at them all day.
I did NOT play with them all day, between baby feedings, when I did NOT continue to stare at them in amazement.
I did NOT pray to God that I could keep them.
They were NOT hard as a rock.
They were NOT painful as hell.
They were NOT absolutely, positively, the most beautiful boobs I had ever seen in my life.
They did NOT disappear.
They did NOT.