Late Bloomer | 50th Issue: Milestones
Mosquito bites. That’s what my older brother called them, taunting me the day I got my first “training” bra: two flat cotton triangles sewn to a thin strap, which clasped around my torso with a single hook. My prepubescent days playing shirtless like a boy, unbridled, were behind me. I wondered about the womanly form my body would blossom into.