Structural Differences

One of my very best friends while growing up was Diana. She was a bit of a tomboy, more comfortable in jeans and a western shirt than on picture day when she had to wear a dress.

Diana and I used to do all sorts of stuff together, from riding horses to running through the woods. We even played “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours,” at one time.

Of course we were young yet and I don’t think either one of us knew what sex was all about. At least I know I had zero-idea about the so-called “birds-and-the-bees,” at the time.

It was between fourth and fifth grade, that Diana and I started to notice some “structural” differences between our bodies. In short she was growing breasts and having to wear a bra, which was something I didn’t fully understand.

It left me a bit confused and I ended up asking Mom what breasts were all about. I’m sure she explained more, but all I gathered was that they made milk and that the milk came from the nipple.

One afternoon, Diana and I were hanging out under a pine tree in the field right behind Mrs. Keating’s house when I asked if she’d show me her “boobs,” as she called them. She lifted her shirt and bra and I looked them over as if I were studying a newly discovered flower.

She gave me permission to touch them and being very gentle as not to hurt Diana, I cupped each breast. She poked fun at me for being afraid of them, for which I was.

So I took the next step and squeezed her areola between my thumb and pointer finger. Try as I may, I couldn’t get milk to come out of them.

I was puzzled, because I had been milking cows for Grandma Ivy for at least three years by them.

Then it dawned on me, maybe I was going about it all wrong. My next question brought out a “that’s sick,” followed by a sharp, “No!” from Diana.

I had asked if I could suckle her, proving I didn’t have the slightest idea what Mom was talking about.

By sixth grade though, we both had a pretty good grasp on what our body parts were for in the long run and the days of “show-and-tell,” were done. Thankfully, it didn’t prevent us from jus’ being children for a while longer.

I also learned a women’s breast doesn’t work like a cow’s teat.

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