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Annabel's Boobs            By Liz Pullin

What was it about a 38D bra that attracted all the admiring glances from the boys? As if I didn't know!

I laid Annabel's beautiful black satin and lace brassiere down on the table and fished around in the laundry basket until I found and held at arms length my 34AA specimen. It wasn't even in sexy colour or material. In shops, on the section marked " Her First Bra", all the bras were either plain white cotton, or had pretty pink rose buds splattered all over them.

I'd been proud to wear my 'first bra' when, at the age of ten and three quarters, I'd been the only girl at Holby House Junior School to wear one. I remember slapping Terry Johnson across the face in Geography when he'd snapped the strap. But I couldn't help being secretly pleased that the boys had obviously noticed my new accessory.

My twin sister, Annabel always the most popular twin had had to wait another one and a half years before Mum had marched her to Marks and Sparks. Although she soon got her own back for all my teasing and jeers when, three months later Annabel had moved on to a 34B and I was expected to wear the cast-off items.

I wasn't looking forward to the next few months wearing Annabel's rejects as she zoomed up through the sizes. But how many times since then have I longed to be able to wear those cast-offs. I didn't even make it to that 34B let alone this enormous hammock of a thing on the table in front of me that made mine look like a baby's harness.

Annabel's endowments made her very popular at school, at least with the boys. And her being a keen sportswoman and athlete sports days were guaranteed to have a large turnout. Even boys who had left school, or were on exam leave turned up for the events in which Annabel was to take part. She gave a brand new meaning to the words "poetry in motion." As far as the boys were concerned. They stood open mouthed as her undulating form moved by. In netball there would be a mass intake of breath whenever she jumped to take a basket, followed by a sigh of deep satisfaction as she landed.

No such admiration for me. No passionate devotion. No adoration. Built for speed rather than seduction, my long shapeless body won many trophies but no hearts. I was treated as one of the boys. The friend of every boy in school but I never had a boyfriend. When I was introduced to other people it was always "You know, Annabel Turner's twin sister" after which I would be looked up and down and then hear the inevitable, "You're not identical twins then."
No, we weren't identical twins. I carried on sorting and folding the clean laundry until I came to Annabel's favourite bikini which she had worn to the Lido yesterday. A black, skimpy little number with more straps than coverage. We'd gone to the pool with all our friends from school. A sort of celebration to mark the end of term and the start of the summer holiday. Annabel had

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