Seasoned

She used to think she was too thin. Probably because everyone referred to her as skinny. Her older brother called her bony butt, to her chagrin. If.......if only the curves would come. At sixteen they surreptitiously arrived. Curves on curves that brought too much unwanted and embarrassing attention from the male population to a shy young woman who was just discovering how to ascertain who she was and how she fit into the world. While walking down the street, she nearly jumped out of her skin, as a car came up behind loudly honking at her. Sometimes they even wildly leaned out the window making lewd remarks. Her brother finally had to cease calling her bony butt. He changed it to Miss Priss. Now looking back on those pure formative years through a seasoned nostalgic glow, a smile crosses aged lips when a horn honks. © Connie Marcum Wong