During the summer between seventh and eighth grades, my body started to feel strange.
Boys Id spent early days of childhood playing with now brought a fluttery feeling to my stomach.
My breasts had begun to develop too.
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It seemed like within weeks Id gone from a training bra to a B cup.
I no longer trusted my body, which was betraying me with all these new feelings and changes.
That summer I went to a pool party.
In a two-piece, I walked by a group of boys from school who were sitting at a table.
Lets play quarters, one of the boys shouted across the table.
That hole was my cleavage, which was markedly sunken into my body.
But standing in front of those boys, my cleavage felt like a canyon between two mounds of flesh.
It felt anything but beautiful.
A friend, sounding envious, said, Youre so popular now.
It seemed like, to her, any attention from boys was good attention.
To me, though, that attention marked the first time Id truly felt different from my peers.
Its what Im wearing, I thought as I pulled at my white off-the-shoulder peasant blouse.
I think this is too revealing, she said.
Its my cleavage, I responded.
Exposing even a hint of its depth made everything feel revealing.
My grandmother handed me another dress.
Thats just how God made you, she said.
It was true, but it didnt help the shame I felt about my body.
I decided I would bring up my different-looking chest at my next doctors appointment.
Years later, just after the deaths of my grandparents, my brother dropped by for a visit.
Under the notes were two words, a diagnosis: pectus excavatum.
National Library of Medicine.
This essentially creates a dent over the sternum, making that part of the chest look sunken.
This sunken sternum is usually noticeable soon after birth, but it often becomes even more prominent during adolescence.
Thats exactly what happened to me.
Once my breasts developed, the dent in my chest deepened.
Interestingly, pectus excavatum is actually pretty common.
I found out about my pectus excavatum diagnosis when I was 42.
Finally I had proof that I wasnt alone.
I realized there must have been enough people to warrant naming the condition.
I did some research, and it turns out I was right.
People talked about their symptoms, their insecurities, and all the ways the condition affected them.
I even came across#pectusexcavatumon Instagram, which currently has over 9,300 posts.
After having felt so alone, I found so much comfort in stumbling upon others like me.
I plan on following up with a doctor to discuss how pectus excavatum might be affecting me.
For now Im simply learning to appreciate my cleavage and body in a way that I never have before.
Last February I went shopping for an outfit to wear to my husbands annual work party.
Instead of feeling ashamed, I felt proud of who I was and the uniqueness of my body.
On the night of the party, I got dressed without hesitation.
For the first time I could remember, I couldnt wait to show off my chest.
I danced unapologetically for hours without worrying about who was looking or what they were thinking.
Id never felt so uninhibited or so much power in owning who I was.
I finally agree with my foster mother: It is beautiful.
