inadequancy

From puberty-on, having small breasts was a mark of inadequacy. Everyone reminded me of it. From my already "well-developed" best friends and the boys who ogled them, to every silicone-injected pop star I idolized on MTV. I was sure mine would grow eventually, but they never did. And so I was relegated as the tag along with my girlfriends, always ending up sitting somewhere next to the "reject" boy who, for whatever reason, didn't make the cut either. Not even the reject boys were interested in me, always sighing about the "luck" of their friends. I knew it was because of my breasts. I was sure that if I had large, supple appendages, I would be seen as interesting enough; worthy enough; beautiful enough to be treated like a real woman.