I posedin front of the mirror the way I had seen Sis do. I placed the outside ofmy wrists on the back of my hips and let the fingers curl up and out.T...at looked good. I clasped my hands onto my elbows behind my back. Itwas hard getting into that position at first but I got used to it and Irecognized that, yes, a lot of girls did stand just like that.I stood on the balls of my feet, lightly balanced. Only a boy would standflat-footed. I held my feet closer together, angled one with the. It is loud, joyous intoxicating but I am oblivious. Oma is behind me; her strong, rough fingers smoothing my collar. I close my eyes. I can see as well without them. Her deft fingers smooth the crisp white cotton, sliding down across my collar bones, her fingertips pulling apart the triangles which hold my top button and its buttonhole.My heart skips a beat. For a moment, I am in doubt, uncertain, frightened; but her fingers do not linger. Oma’s pleased with that choice, and that of the. More

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