BIG OR SMALL...OUR BREASTS DON'T DEFINE " WHO WE ARE".
I KNOW FOR SURE: MASSAGING BREASTS WON'T MAKE THEM BIGGER.
In 1958, soon after I won the Miss
Arkansas Title, the Pageant Director (a single man in the printing business) decided that larger breasts would increase my chances of being crowned…Miss America. Forget that I’d recently won both the talent and swimsuit divisions in the
1958 Miss Arkansas Pageant.
So…the Miss Arkansas Pageant Committee hired Hiawatha Daniels---a former Powers Model from North Little Rock, Arkansas, now serving as the Director of a
Funeral Home--- to help me grow bigger breasts. For two weeks, I lived with Hi and faithfully-followed her special diet and exercise plan.
According to Hiawatha Daniels, this was her
successful “recipe” for growing big breasts. First thing every morning, Hi weighed me, measured my chest, then instructed me in upper-body exercises using hand-weights. Our exercise session was followed by Hiawatha massaging both my breasts.
(Just writing about this totally-bizarre experience makes me angry.)
Not only did Hi—an absolutely stranger--- massage each of my breasts for exactly ten minutes every day, I had to
sit naked-- in the bathtub-- so she could massage my breasts with pure dairy cream. In fact, my daily diet required me to drink one glass of pure cream three times daily, eat one gallon of ice cream each day, and consume at least two milk shakes daily.
By the end of two weeks, I’d gained four pounds…mostly in my waist and hips….and felt like “mooing”. It took another two weeks to lose those four pounds and for my breasts to "un-tweak", relax, and feel normal again.
Today, I panic at the word: MASSAGE. From day-one, I knew that “growing big breasts in two weeks” was a ridiculous waste of money and time but, remember: I was the property of the Miss
Arkansas Committee. They were, supposedly, The Most- Professional-Pageant-Officials—the "very-ones" who could produce the next Miss America.
Today,I'm sure these so-called “professionals”
would insist I submit my breasts to some back-alley Doctor who would pump-up my small-but-proud breasts with who-knows-what….to make them “pop” out of my chest.
Daniels was likeable but there was something unnatural about this stranger massaging my breasts for two weeks---and getting paid for it. Just imagine the “bomb” I could have dropped—back in the fifties--- if I’d disclosed my secret
sexual encounter with breast massage. Couple that with the disclosure of my years of incest and sexual abuse at the hands of my mother and...It would have been a Full-Blown Shocker.
year was 1958. Unlike today, the world at that time was unprepared for such a shocker. Quite frankly, neither was I.
Interesting to note: When the Director of the 1958 Miss America Pageant,
Lenora Slaughter, met with me and the other contestants on the first day of competition, the first thing she said was, “Girls, pad your swimsuits, your evening gowns, whatever you think needs padding. I don’t care! I just want to wow
the Audience, the Judges, and the Press--- with talent, sex appeal, good looks, and lots of glamour!”
I was forced to live with my many sexual secrets until 2016, when I finally
published the story of my life. My book is called: The Beauty Queen.
Now, all my secrets are public. Today, I live my life based on the subtitle of my book: Let No Deed Go
Unpublished. I no longer live with secrets nor do I allow secrets around me. I believe we should all be accountable for our actions.