ABC's and ME

I had always admired them on others until “THEY” morphed me into this unbalanced specimen. These twin aliens invaded my body the summer leading to my 5th grade year at Dodson Drive Elementary School. When I was little, I would sneak and play with my mom’s heels, jewelry, Fashion Fair make-up, and my very own hand-made wig (I would put a bright yellow towel on my head and tie it down with a rubber-band). Blondes have more fun, right? The highlight of this make-over would be me stuffing my shirt so that I could bask in my womanhood. I would grab my Daddy’s brush and sing in the mirror all while admiring my pseudo-titties.

It’s June 9, 1989. All week I have been feeling weird and achy. I don’t care because it’s my birthday week.

June 13, 1989- As I get out of bed, I feel different. I feel 10! I feel like a pre-pre-pre-teenager. I stretch…..bend over to get my slippers…and, oh my MOSES…I feel my ABC’s…Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t know the ABC’s do ya? Well, one day in my leisure, I took the liberty of naming my breasts using every letter in the alphabet. I know, I know….you are thinking…..why? You either don’t understand the beauty of these puppies, because you don’t have any…(sorry ladies that are proud members of the Itty-Bitty-Titty Committee) or you have not relished in the bosom of a set of Beautiful One’s.

Now, it’s time for you to learn your ABC’s-SAY IT WITH ME NOW!!!
A-Apples
B-Betty Boops
C-Charlies
D-Dueling Banjos
E-Eggplants
F-Floaters
G-Grapefruits
H-Hemispheres
I-Items
J-Jawbreakers
K-Kongas
L-Love Melons
M-Milk Shakes
N-Noogies
O-Oompas
P-Pillows
Q-Quarters
R-Rounders
S-Shimmies
T-Titties
U-U-boats
W-Warheads
Y-Yams
Z-Zingers

Back to my story….THEY’RE HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHOOP! WHOOP! I run clumsily to the bathroom because gravity and me are not used to this extra weight. They are so cute and perky. I love em’. I pose….VOGUE IT OUT, CHICA!!!!!!!!!!!! I jump and THEY MOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!! FINALLY, THEY MOVE! I had been waiting for the day for them to move. I go to my parents’ room to tell my mom. They are asleep of course. Without knocking, I run into the room and shout, “MAMA, I GOT TITTIES!” She sits up startled and incoherent and says, “WHAT!” I scream louder in a mono-toned voice, “I…….. GOT………….. TITTIES!” She gives me the famous Annie Lois Pullins “I know you did not just wake me up for that bullshit look,” and says, “LOR-ANNE, TAKE YO ASS TO BED!” I am still excited. I am skipping around the house, because “they” move, now. I am looking in my mom’s Hanes’ catalog for bras, because “they” move. I need support, because “they” move. No, wait, WE NEED support, because “they” move. I have to stop being so selfish. It’s not just me anymore. It’s WE……i.e…… “PETE, REPEAT, and LET’S DO IT AGAIN!” I can’t wait to go back to school to show “US” off.


The first day of school and everyday thereafter was torture to say the least. These monstrosities caused me heartache and shame. I got teased for having a thin frame and large “Charlies.” I started to learn strategies to cover them up…like wearing large t-shirts and slouching. I thought poor posture would make “them” look smaller.

The once adored twins became a burden to me. I didn’t feel comfortable wearing the skimpish tops that other women would wear, because I didn’t like the attention that I received from my voluptuousness. While attending Clayton State, I met a petite chic, about 5ft 2inches, with extremely large “Apples”…..Large like she has to back up to knock on a door. Large like if she was turning a corner, I would see “them” minutes before I see the rest of her. She was preparing for a “Dueling Banjos” reduction surgery (and DAMNIT, she was a great candidate). She went on and on about how wonderful her doctor was and that all she had to do was complain of back problems and they approved her surgery. Well, I wasn’t having any physical problems. My problem was PURE VANITY!!! I did not like……..I really didn’t know what I didn’t like….I know my mind changed about my “Milkshakes” when someone else told me how they felt about them. So, I made a doctor’s appointment. I marched in their and I said, “I want a “Noogie,” I mean, breast reduction. My back hurts.” The doctor, which happened to be a female, who happened to be the President of the Itty-Bitty-Titty Committee (8th term to be exact), looked at me with sarcasm and said, “Sweetie, you need to run.” I was like, “WHAT?!!!!!” She said, “YES, you need to run. That is nothing more than FAT. When some people gain weight, they may gain it in their thighs, buttocks, or gut…you, my dear, gain weight in your breasts…..blah…blah…blah…blah.” I could not believe what this trick was telling me. I am too vain to even understand. I just want the freaking surgery. I don’t want to hear about physical activity that I probably can’t do because of these jugs anyway. I don’t want to hear about nutrition and all that jazz. I just want the surgery. Anywhoo……that session did not go as expected.


Fast forward to present day
For health and spiritual reasons, I decided to change my lifestyle and focus on a whole complete me. I knew that I could only benefit from this choice. It was extremely difficult starting but I did it. I am A LOT lighter and I feel good. I still have some reservations about my “Betty Boops” but, I am enjoying the ride. Over the weekend, I took a trip to Pretty Please, in Lawrenceville, GA. For those of you that belong to the Itty- Bitty-Titty Committee that is a lingerie shop for the WELL ENDOWED woman. I needed to get re-measured due to the weight loss (WHOOP!!! WHOOP!!!). While I was speaking with the attendant, I was doing my usual complaining about my “Shimmies” and how every other part of my body has slimmed down significantly, but the “Shimmies,” are being stubborn. They ain’t moving! LOL!!! As she responded, my eyes drifted to the back of the store. I had not noticed this part of the store before. I saw these weird looking machines and fake breast cups. There was another clerk working with a customer in that part of the shop. The customer was small framed and had a bandana on her head. I saw her when I walked in and wondered why she was in Pretty Please. She didn’t have much to work with. I got up the nerve to ask my attendant, about this strange part of the store. She grabbed my hand and guided me to the back of the store and in front of the other attendant and the customer, explained “We specialize in creating bras and augmentations for women that have had a mastectomy. Lori, this is Sharon. She is a breast cancer survivor.”

Okay…………awkward silence for the longest 10 seconds of my life. First of all, I was not ready for that. 2nd of all, I was not ready for that. Thirdly, I was not ready for that. Finally, I feel like a complete, ungrateful, jackass that has a Frito-Lay like taste in my mouth because I just kicked my foot in it…and did I mention that I was not ready for that? Sharon looked at me and simply said, “I heard you complaining about your breasts, I mean your ‘Shimmies,’ I really miss mine. You look beautiful by the way, and I love your hair.” Okay……okay…..my eyes are welting up….but….I ain’t no punk…..I want to crawl under a rock. This heifer just set me STRAIGHT and then she….she…she….complimented my hair!!!! WTH!!!!! I love her!!!!!

For the first time, I am speechless. I don’t know what to say to her. Those few words changed my life. Those words changed my posture, my wardrobe, my thinking, most importantly, my attitude towards my “Love Melons.” Oh, how I missed them. We are back together now. When we first met, I longed for them to “move.” But for the past 23 years, I had been trying to keep them from moving. NOW……..OH LAWD………..Let’s just say……. “THEY MOVE!”

I am thinking of Sharon and other breast cancer survivors when I am showing a little cleavage. I think of them when I am walking or jogging and “they move.” I think of them when I shower and when I am getting dressed. I am grateful for my “Ooompas.” Ladies, don’t be ashamed of your “Zingers.” Give em’ a special name and at every chance you get make “em’ move” for Sharon and all the other breast cancer survivors.
By: Lori Anne Stallworth