I remember the first time I noticed my breasts. They introduced themselves quietly -- albeit painfully. I was tummy-down on my bedroom floor, listening to my record player and sifting through the clutter under my bed, searching for my autographed photo of Ronald Reagan (true story).
Ouch! It was like someone had punched me in the chest, leaving tender bruises under the mini-mounds that had recently begun forming on my 12-year-old body.
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