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WHAMMY/McoZfl Mason WHEN WOULD YOU FIRST detect your breast's defection? Not from breasthood, but from the seemliness of breasts. Especially teenage breasts--ones that hadn't been trotted into view but were a little shy yet, blushing breasts, breasts that would have to be coaxed. When would you begin to note certain things about the breast, the left one? Like how it seemed unhappy, while the right one was content. Like how it strained against your bra, resentful and mulish and chafed, while the other snuggled peacefully in its cup--a curled mouse in its Kleenex nest. When would you suspect that the breast was not going to cooperate with your ideas? For how it should look? For how it should downsize, rein in its runaway nipple, look to the other one for guidance--the proper breast, the "right" breast, the breast that knew its place? When would you realize, fully and with black-hole horror, that you had a rebel breast on your hands? On your body? On your complete and entire existence? If you are anything like Leeza, you're fifteen and tempted to pretend it's all a phase. If you are like Leeza, and layers are in, you'll just butyou'll think
The Missouri Review – University of Missouri
Published: Oct 5, 1998
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