Will I Be Pretty? Part 1

I saw my life change before my eyes. It all flashed by like flickering images on a busy street. I was growing up. My body was changing from a child's to a woman's. And out of no where, Mother Nature sneaks up and slaps me in the face. My baby fat seemed to melt off as fat started to fill in other more appealing areas.

As I turned and looked at my naked body in a mirror it was as if I could hear Mother Nature's evil cackle. It was noticeable now. I couldn't just wear a shirt anymore I needed.... a bra. A dreaded word in my child's mind, something I tried to deny would ever happen. But as I stood there pinching and pushing my swollen breast I knew it was true. Once they started to swell my breasts would not stop! I was eleven and already had an A cup, as big as my Mother was in adulthood. All I could think was, will I be pretty?

The question throbbed into my very core as I knew I couldn't hide it anymore. I couldn't cower behind the mask of childhood. They all thought I was charming, adorable....normal. And I knew I had to confront it. I had to attack the fact that I only had one breast head on. No cowering behind a corner in the shadows.

I geared myself for the worse and all I would think was "That Bitch!" Of course I didn't know how to cuss at the time but if I did that's what I would be thinking!

My mother spent a few days making phone calls. Like me, she was trying to deny the fact that one day her daughter would need a solution to her "condition". Perhaps she thought it would come later in my life; perhaps she was trying to deny it as much as I was. But whatever the reason she scrambled to find a solution, even if it was temporary, in her mind at least.

The calls had been made, a solution found.

As my mother held my hand she towed me into a store that was unlike any I had ever seen. On the walls heads with make up on them displayed an array of colored wigs in every hair style imaginable. While underwear filled every inch of the store. But this wasn't the cute underwear that I saw my sisters wearing, this was stranger.

My mother and I were greeted by a sales clerk. Asking my Mother what she could help her with. My mother smiled and quietly explained the real reason we were there. I saw the sales lady turn her head in my direction. She made eye contact with me for only a few fleeting seconds, but the look she had hidden behind her smile was, a mixture of sympathy, fear, sadness and distaste . I could tell she had never had a client like myself. She was used to dealing with women who had lost their breast through surgery. Not an ugly duckling girl who had never possessed two.

I spent the next few hours of my life having this woman dress and undress me like her own personal doll. Trying on fifteen different types of bras and ten different types of breast forms. My bust line was touched, prodded and measured; all the while I felt like I was being sized up and conformed to the ideal of which society measures them all.

I left the store with an elastic pair of material stretched around my midsection and a sticky feeling breast form that some times collapsed into my chest.

All the while wondering. Will this make me pretty? Will this make me normal? Will this make me better or thinner?

Then coming to a realization much wiser then my age. I discovered that all of those things would only come from within, I was in control. And not even the most magical bra in the world could make all of my imaginary shortcomings disappear.

This new information changed my thinking. And as I was faced with an even more challenging decision in the near future. This realization helped me make the right choice for me.

And apparently I'm not the only one. This woman says it just how I feel. We shouldn't just be defined by a little five letter word.

Until next time...

You're Perfect just the way you are,
No one's as Special as you.

A New Name, A New Life

The most dramatic part of my childhood was finally settling down. The move was over! We were temporarily settled into our new apartment. A three bedroom apartment with six people. This did not go over well. Especially since temporary turned into a year. :\

I had just turned eleven and was excited to start a new life. I met a TON of new friends. I had at least four new friends that I played with on a regular basis. I was in heaven! My problems with sleepovers, parties and play dates were a thing of the past. I felt so accepted and loved.

There was even... a boy! Oh I thought he was so cute! This was the first boy that I had liked that I knew liked me back. He had kissed me on the cheek. Oh I think I almost died with embarrassment!

We had moved somewhere very very hot. I spent most of my days in the pool and found that I was a fish out of water. I told a lot of my close friends about my Poland Syndrome. They didn't care or mind. It seemed that I had finally found my place in life.

I found myself becoming a new person someone not even close to who I was before. Before I was a shy and lonely little girl; now I was becoming an outgoing fun young woman. So I chose a new name to go a long with new me. Qora, pronounced like Cora, that traditional spelling, was a self chosen name for myself and actually shows more of my personality then my birth name could ever have.

I started to ask my friends to call me Qora instead of my birth name as an experiment. The one person that took to it the most was the boy I had a crush on. He would always call me Qora and it would make me blush. I was getting braver and braver around him.

Then one day, we decided to go to the pool together. We went with all of my friends. I was still fairly young so you couldn't really see my PS but I was starting to show more.

My friends and I were all laughing having a good time. We were taking turns jumping off of the pools side. There was a large cliff and a waterfall. I jumped in the pool with my friend when I came up my swimsuit had shifted underwater. My friend and I fixed it as quickly as possible, but it was too late my crush had already seen.

I acted like nothing was different and nothing happened, because honestly nothing did. I was still the same me, but he spooked. He made up an excuse and got out of there as quick as he possibly could.

My first heartache.

I never really saw him after that. It hurt right at first but I was surprised at how quickly I got over it. Even at such a young age I braced myself against the pain and came out on top of it. I don't know if being bullied helped me get over this in any way but it definitely prepared me for the sting of rejection and pain.

I moved on as if nothing had occurred. I brushed that boy aside like I would do countless others. I didn't know it yet but deep down inside I had a feeling that there was something better out there and that I deserved something much better then some guy that spooked at the sight of anything different.

Taking this path of confidence and being different was very important for what was going to happen next. Instead of being heart broken over one stupid boy; I rose above it stronger and happier. With the knowledge that there were many more out there for me, and he was obviously not one of them. I was beautiful and if he couldn't see that then he was the one who was at a loss, not me.

Until next time....

You're Perfect just the way you are
No one's as Special as you.