Can We Talk About My Tatas?
Are You there, God? It’s me, Julie Cali.
Dear God,
Remember when I was an oily-faced chubby pre-teen, praying to you, asking if my breasts would finally grow?
Adult me is ashamed that young me even wasted your time with such frivolities. Sorry about that. But You made me, so in my mind, it made sense that You could accelerate the development process at your whim. Besides, I prayed for other things, too, like world peace. I tried very hard to be only a partially self-absorbed pre-teen. After praying, I’d pass out the minute my head hit the pillow, eager to wake up each day to see if You’d answered my prayers and if they’d finally come.
Then, one day, they did.
They weren’t quite as firm or plump as I had seen on TV. Baywatch’s Pamela Anderson set unrealistic expectations in my young teen mind. But they were mine nonetheless. I thanked You for listening to my prayers knowing that in the totality of all You do, this one prayer seemed inconsequential, and yet somehow You found the time to answer it.
They were a great pair too!
Seeing me through good times and bad. In my twenties, they perked up in my Victoria Secret’s push-up bra on special occasions. They relaxed in my sports bra when I took an occasional…
