My First Shamanic Experiment

I was in grade 5.  Everybody was reading Judy Blume's Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. I read it five times before it was due back in the library.

I was in a mixed grade 5/6 class, which is pretty much the cusp of pubescence.  The most popular girl in class -- heck in the school -- was Gail, a big-boned blonde in the 6th grade with ginormous boobs.  Teachers stared.  Everywhere Gail went, she was always getting comments, some not so nice, but most of the time, very nice.  It was like she was famous.  No matter what Gail was doing or whom Gail was with, everyone wanted to talk to her.

One day, a bunch of us grade 5 girls were hanging out where the grade 7s hang out. Twins in my grade had an older brother who was telling us how he got drunk off his father's home-made wine.  All the Portugese families used their bathtubs to make the stuff every autumn.  For some reason, something caught my eye.

It was something written on the wall in pencil.  "Don't Stare. GROW YOUR OWN!"

I was in awe.  Was it really that simple?  All I had to do was never stare at Gail's wonderful boobs again and I'll grow my own pair?  What would it hurt to try?  The writing was on the wall, for goodness sake.  For a Catholic girl, that was heavy shit.

So, for the rest of the year, everyday I saw Gail, I would look her square in the eyes and say, "Hi!" and keep on walking.  My girlfriends would always have a comment or two to say ("Nice sweater, chubby;" "Still a virgin?")  I stuck to my program.  And Gail started talking to me about stuff.  I don't remember what anymore, but I do remember she had a very pretty smile and she smelled of chicklets gum.

And everynight, I would do my exercises with my mantra: I Must. I Must. I Must Increase My Bust.

I did this for the rest of the year.  That Christmas, I got sweater after sweater after sweater.  And not just any kind of sweater; the same cable knit, baggy, wrap-around sweater in a dozen different colors.  It was winter in V.C. -- I was happy to get sweaters.  Besides, Jacqueline Smith wore them.  She was a Charlie's Angel.

So I wore sweaters for 3 months. Until one warm afternoon, as I was unwrapping the cable knit layers off me, I felt 20 pairs of eyes on my teeshirt. I had never noticed it until Ricky Degano pointed it out, "Holy Big Momma!"  The whole class laughed.  I looked down and saw, not just boobs, amazing boobs.

It really worked.  To this day, I thank Gail for knowing and sharing the secret to manifesting your best life.  Don't stare = grow your own.

It still works.