Way back in the day when I was still in high school – maybe around 15 years old – I attended the bridal shower of a family friend. It was an tasteful afternoon tea and since I didn’t know many people there I was quite happy to go into the kitchen and help with the serving and the cleaning. Later I heard the hostess (who to me was one of the most elegant women I had ever laid eyes on) say to my mother, “Your daughter was such a great help. What a lovely young lady.”
I was what you might call a “late bloomer” in the breast development department. And when they finally did show up, there wasn’t a whole lot going on. My late brother used to taunt me unmercifully with, “Flatsie, flatsie, Mary’s flat and that’s that.” Turns out he was prescient, because living flat is now my choice.