When I was ten years old my mom told me I needed a bra. I told her I wanted a pocket knife. We struck a deal. If I got a bra I could have a pocket knife. We went to the store and, full of shame, I took home a bra. I wore my bra and waited. My breasts grew bigger and still I waited. At fifteen I had grown into a D cut. I grew tired of waiting.

I bought my own pocket knife.