Deniably D

Taking about bras the other day got me thinking. I mentioned that I had been disheartened to realize during a fitting at Nordstroms that I was actually much larger than I previously thought. And if I had any readers, they'd surely be collectively gasping, "Why?" Because all women desire to be well-endowed right? The Almost As want to be Barely Bs and the Barely Bs long to be Close to Cs, no? Not entirely so. Having grown up in a family of all women, I was always the one with the smallest chest. And I was happy to be small. I had witnessed the struggles and difficulties each of my sisters encountered as they matured beyond their years too quickly. So when the bra fitter at Nordstroms tilted her head one way and then another and suggested I try the next size up, TWICE... I was mortified. A "D"? Really. Surely this must be a mistake? Never. Me?

I must be incredibly dense. Sure, people had noticed, men had commented and a couple of my husband's friends even applauded his luck in our earlier years of dating. Yet it wasn't until I had to have a photo taken by a colleague (female) to be posted online to a professional profile, that it really struck me. As she joked that she should aim a bit higher because the shadows were distracting, I wondered, how could I have been so oblivious? I have overlooked one of my more noticeable assets for years and thought nothing of it. And it made me wonder, what other assets, physical or intellectual, professional or personal, have I played-down, overlooked or downright denied?