Rite of Passage

Training bra. I was never quite sure what it was that was being trained but that was the name given to the little stretchy thing. Similar in appearance to a crop top. No darts, no padding and no support because, after all, what was there to support?

When I was in 7th grade, during my ’67-’68 school year, I had the physique of a small boy. At that time P.E. students were required to shower upon returning to the locker room after play. There I was in my tiny fake bra standing beside the Amazon who was already in a “C” cup. But if that wasn’t humiliating enough our P.E. teacher passed out towels to each of us as we paraded by her. She made the towels available to us first by scrutinizing to make certain we were wet, that we had actually showered. Oh, the indignity.

That was then, this is now. Times have definitely changed. When I pulled a stint for a few years as a dance teacher in a local high school the shower stalls in the girls locker room looked as dry as the Sahara. Spider webs and dust balls decorated the unused stalls. Decades had passed since the teenagers in this venue had been required to shower.

Training bra. Waiting for that “C ” cup to develop. P.E. teacher. Showers. Towels. Rite of passage.

 

 

 

 

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