The Vine: May 1, 2001
I’ve gotten too many letters about DeeDee’s dilemma to print them all, ranging from angry rants about how she should turn The Boob in immediately to screeds on harassment that y’all have suffered, and the long-term consequences of that harassment.
I’ll say it once again: what The Boob is doing is not right. He treats DeeDee like an object, like her chest is all she is, and that sucks — it’s sexist, it’s ignorant, and it’s hurtful. But the world is full of sexist, ignorant, hurtful people, and I believe — as I believed when I first responded to the letter — that the key for DeeDee is not to let the sexism and ignorance and hurt bring her down. If she wants to report him, then of course she should. But before that, she should know with all her heart that the nasty stupid shit The Boob says, and that other men will undoubtedly say, isn’t about her or her breasts at all. It’s about a miserable little nimrod whose parents didn’t teach him to respect girls, or other people for that matter, and knowing that will give her more strength and power in the long run than engaging The Boob in a battle she might not win.
One last letter on this, below.
Man, I’ve been there. And I agree with your advice, Sars.
I started growing those puppies in sixth grade and by the time I got to eighth they were enormous. And I lived in semi-small-town Louisiana at the time. I could spend hours telling you the crap I dealt with. People assuming that the As I got were due to my large breasts and me sleeping with my teachers. I was 13. Guys used to grab me and try and touch me. They’d name my breasts. They invented a warped version of baseball which involved hitting my chest with balled up paper. It was harassment. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
I tried everything. I tried ignoring them — didn’t stop ’em. And it’s hard to ignore a group of guys throwing things at your breasts and grabbing you. I tried giving them a taste of their own medicine. I tried getting angry. I tried getting hurt. I tried talking to administrators. I had teachers inform me, and inform other students when I wasn’t around, that I liked the attention and that I was asking for it. I was 13. And even if I showed up with Playboy logos tattooed all over my body, I was not asking for it. And yeah, I liked when someone said I was hot or cute or pretty. Nothing wrong with that. But liking it when folks find you attractive is not the same thing as wanting to be harassed.
I finally just got hard. I got immune to a lot of it. And I hate that. Luckily I had parents who loved me and made sure I knew that I was a great kid. The way those guys treated me hurt. The way friends and teachers treated the situation hurt more. But through it all, I knew that it was them and not me. And that nothing was wrong with my body. And I think knowing that is the most important thing. It’s them. Or, in this case, him. Telling administrators might work. Things are different now from when I went to school; schools are more afraid of harassment lawsuits. So maybe he can be stopped. Or maybe not. But whatever happens, DeeDee should just remember that this isn’t a reflection of her. She’s still the same fabulous person, even if the world still doesn’t know what the hell to do with natural large breasts.
I’m 26 now. And I’m wiser and I’ve got power and I don’t take any crap like that from anyone anymore. And I’ve met a lot of those guys since that time. They’re all pretty sad examples of humanity these days. Which makes me happy and doesn’t surprise me. And I love my breasts. I don’t wear strappy tank tops, but they sure look good in baby tees.
38DD
Dear 38,
Amen, sister.
Sure, DeeDee should turn The Boob in, and her school should thump his skull for him and his parents’ skulls to boot. But as I’ve said before, DeeDee needs to know first that she’s not to blame, that she doesn’t deserve it, and that she’s not the sum of what other people say about her. We’ve come a long way (baby), but women still get judged by stupid standards all the time. DeeDee will have to deal with that for the rest of her life; better she learn now that it’s bullshit so she can live her life the way she wants.
And all you parents out there, listen up — if you hear your son talking like that about a girl, ground his ass, and while he’s steaming in his room, take an hour or two to think about what kind of example you set for him if he treats a girl like that. No kid is perfect, and kids will say shit and make fun of each other, but my brother wouldn’t have pulled that kind of shit at age 13. Why? Because if he had, my mother would have hammered him head-down into the front lawn with a croquet mallet…and because he grew up in a house where women got respect, period. Children don’t learn how to treat other people from reading books. They learn it at home. Teach them right.
Dear Vine,
I’m 17 and just got my first boyfriend, and that’s the issue. See, I don’t know if I can even call him my boyfriend yet, because we haven’t even kissed. We hold hands and hug and stuff, but no kissing so far, and that’s my question. I’ve never been kissed before, and while I want to kiss my boyfriend (or whatever), I am afraid that I’ll suck at it or something, so whenever I think he might kiss me I start talking or look up at the stars or the ceiling — I’m scared to kiss him. I don’t want to do it wrong.
Any suggestions? Things to avoid? I know it’s dumb but I can’t stop worrying about it.
Late Bloomer
Dear Late,
Ohhhhhh sister — I feel your pain. And it’s not dumb at all. I dreaded my first kiss too, actually, and when it finally did come along, I totally froze, unable to believe that a tongue had entered my mouth.
My advice is to just go with the flow. No, that’s not very helpful advice, but you learn by doing. Okay, that’s not helpful either. Let’s try this: you and the boyfriend, chilling on the couch. You turn towards him to say something, and he’s got The Look — that cross-eyed gaze that means he’s staring at your lovely face and wants to lay one on you. Resist the urge to panic and start babbling (well, panic if you like, but do fight the babble instinct). Breathe easy. Now he leans towards you a little. It’s a little weird to have someone literally in your face, but keep breathing and let it happen. Close your eyes. His lips touch yours. Okay, no problem. Keep breathing. Good. Now his lips part yours a little bit; it feels freaky at first, but go with it and breathe evenly through your nose. Great. Okay, here comes the tongue. It’s going to feel kind of wrong at first. Go with it. Let yourself get used to it. Still breathing? Okay, good. When you’ve gotten acclimated, let your tongue meet his. Be gentle. Don’t thrust your tongue. Don’t swirl it too much. That’s the ticket.
A lot of high-school boys don’t kiss that well themselves. Or college boys, for that matter. Or grown men (sigh). It’s possible that your boy is going to hike his tongue halfway down your throat, but just breathe and get used to it a little bit and it’ll go fine, and once you’ve gotten that first kiss over with, you can retrain the boy if necessary.
But don’t worry. It’ll happen, and it’ll go great, and you’ll have a whole career of great kissing ahead of you. Trust me, you’ll get the hang of it.
Tags: boys (and girls) sex
