At the same time Andrea Pyros was developing her chest, breast cancer was ending her mother’s life. This Mother’s Day, Andrea looks back on her growing pains and pays tribute to the woman in whose absence she defined her presence.
Know what’s the worst? Puberty. Entering it. Living through it. Everything about it, A to Z, awkwardness to zits.
I hated being the first in the class to get my period, going from flat to fully-developed C-cup in under a year. My best friend despised getting so much taller than everyone else, while another friend was miserable about being so late to develop. No matter if you’re first, last or smack-dab in the middle, none of it is enjoyable.
When I was in sixth grade, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, making those difficult, emotional years that much more so. I was uncomfortable enough with my own changing body, but now my emerging breasts were even more fraught. Not only did they bring me unwanted attention from boys in my school and men on the street, I also learned that they had the capacity to bring on a serious illness out of the blue.