Manipulating the clothing styles of the early 1960s, I quickly became fashionably unfashionable.
Dr. Kildare and Dr. Ben Casey caused many arguments at school over which was most dreamy. In truth, neither was on my hunk list (waaay too old), but I had to make a choice. Which old geezer would I pretend to have a crush on?

http://www.en.wikipedia.org
Vince Edwards as Dr. Ben Casey

http://www.protomag.com
Richard Chamberlain as Dr. Kildare
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“Dr. Kildare is tons cuter,” I said.
Each wore a white ‘doctor’ shirt, with stiff starched copies available for sale. The two versions were nearly identical, except one doctor had his buttons stitched on the left, and the other on the right.
Mom bought me one of each. I flaunted my richness by alternating the unflattering shirts each day. The lab shirts did not look attractive on anyone.

http://www.woman’sday.com
Dickies of 1962 were knit
Announcing the Dickie: a turtle-neck with no sleeves or body, worn under a sweater or blouse. Boys also wore them under their button-down shirts.
I appreciated Dickies with their additional square of knit material laying on my chest and plumping me up. My Dickie was a form of legal bra-stuffing.
My favorite outfit was a tan V-neck angora sweater with my brown Dickie. I wore it with an olive skirt Barbara Kay (my cousin) handed down to me. I didn’t need to tighten the waistband with a safety pin; rows of stretchy stitching made it ‘one size fits all’. And it had pleats, sort-of-almost making an hourglass figure (if you looked in a funhouse mirror).At the time, I only owned one other winter school outfit, a dress. When Mom realized my lack of school clothes, we went to the Fair Haven Outlet and bought two more outfits. She also spoke to Aunt Nellie about sending over more of Barbie’s cast-offs. Instead of rotating two outfits for school, I now wore a new change of clothes each day for two weeks.
In an effort to flesh myself out, I wore several slips under my outfits and two pair of knee-socks over my stockings. I’m not sure if my padding fooled anyone (probably not), but it made changing for gym a bit tricky.
Inside our locker room, I turned my back and pulled multiple knee-socks off each foot in one smooth motion, giving the illusion of a single pair. I dropped my collection of slips to the floor and quickly put the wad inside my locker.
Putting multiple socks and slips back on was not as discreet.
“Mary, how come you’re wearing two pair of knee socks?”
Giving a shiver and rubbing my legs, I answered, “My legs are cold.”
“Why are you wearing three slips at once?”
“I was worried my dress might be see-through in the sun,” I answered with unaccustomed modesty.
Dress slacks (forget about jeans) weren’t allowed in school, so my toothpick-legs and bumpy knees were on constant display. Pants wouldn’t help my plight anyway, since any small enough to fit my waist ended halfway up my leg. Picture a stick figure of the Hulk with his tiny clothes.
I stopped trying to appear voluptuous in my twenties (I’m lying, I never wised-up until my late thirties, but that sounds too pathetic) when I finally admitted defeat and worked with what God did or didn’t give me. But I still longed for sexy curves.
Be careful what you wish for, or at least be specific. Big bazoombas briefly appeared with my pregnancy at age thirty-six, but they blended in with my beluga stomach, forming one giant mound. Upon giving birth, my curves disappeared as quickly as they came.
Twenty pounds of permanent curves finally arrived in my mid-forties, and a lot of those pounds settled in places NOT on my wish list.
Lesson Learned: Trying to improve is admirable, but there reaches a point when you simply need to work with what you’ve got.
Related Posts: Chapter Six: Creating Cleavage
Now it’s your turn: Did you attempt a makeover?
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I have too many curves. Want some? I’ve had enough of them. lol
Thanks, Suz, I’m full up now. Back when I needed them my Mom always said that if they ever figured out a way to transfer weight I had to take it all from her.
Mary, I’ve nominated you for a blogging award 🙂
http://suzjones.wordpress.com/2013/11/23/another-award-my-cup-runneth-over/
Thank you, Suz. What a great award!
I prefer women with small breasts anyway…….probably a fear of suffocation 😉 xox
Ralph, you’re a bad boy, but funny.
Just as slumber beckoned I spotted this piece. Did you ever get to wear the drip dry shirts and the like my mother so favoured? ‘Twas not until I collapsed through overwhelming trapped body heat in the street one day that she went back to cotton and a hot iron.
Mike, drip dry shirts and permanent press were a God send. But you’re right about the heat, nothing like natural fabric in the sun.
So you were a regular Olive Oyl, lol! I always wondered what the heck a Dickie was any good for! I was born ‘naturally endowed’ shall we say…plenty of junk in the trunk, too…
Nope, never needed to accentuate…I always needed to ‘play it down’.
Lucky you.
Yes, CJ, we always want what we don’t have. Curves, no curves, straight hair, curly, etc.
Hmm! Did you have to end it with curves in the wrong places, Mary? I can hardly see the keyboard on my knees thanks to such curves. I really did not need reminding 🙂
Ha ha, Suresh. Those curves should be like play-dough so we can mold them and squish them to the spots we prefer.
loved my dickies too! i tried using thick, green, sticky eyeliner, which turned out to look somewhat like cleopatra, to accentuate my eyes. perhaps just a tad extreme )
I tried the black eyeliner brought out to a point for Cleopatra eyes, too, KSbeth. They were combined with my almost white, pale pink lipstick. Hey, every generation has their funny fads. My two boys had those crazy bowl haircuts, like Moe from the three stooges.
Be careful what you wish for, ha! I was skinny and flat chested until high school. Then, I developed a chest, a big chest, that I tried to hide behind my school books that were always pressed against me. I finally did obtain the attention from all the good-looking boys, but I knew they weren’t interested in my shiny personality.
Yes, EM, we need to be more specific with our wishes!
Mary, I could tell you horror stories about being a fat child. Probably the embarrassment of being too skinny is just as bad but I’ve never been able to experience it.
We all had our crosses to bear in school (as well as life), Glynis. Some heavier than others. I confess, mine was not as heavy as others, but seemed so at the time.
You..are..a..riot, Skinny. I love bazoombas and belugas, whatever size they happen to come in. 😀
Gee, Spunky, that makes you an equal opportunity employer!
Like you, I was way too skinny in my younger years and the thing about the pants in school – didn’t happen until I was in high school!
Elle, if it wasn’t being too skinny it’d be something else. And now the kids can wear just about anything in school.
I was too skinny before too! Thanks to our school uniform, my knobbly knees and stilt-like legs were especially noticeable. I guess it didn’t help that I was almost as tall or taller than most guys my age too…
When my curves did finally make a guest appearance, my cheeks took the greatest share. Not what I was expecting at all.
DW – I agree that we should be able to specify where all curves should go.
And didn’t you love the way most sleeves were too short, exposing bony wrists?
We all have our crosses to bear. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.
Ah, yes, those awful sleeves…
I agree…I guess no one’s life is perfect…