My great-aunt. The protector. The hero.
It was a scorching hot day in Merced or Atwater aka some town in California that you may not know. I was about seven or eight, reclining on a pool float, knowing I wasn’t the best swimmer.
My dear cousin—who loves me so much—decided to flip the inflated dinosaur over so he could watch me sink to the bottom of the pool. And sink I did. After I mentally said goodbye to my Barbies and Christies, surprisingly a brown blur came to my rescue.
After regaining consciousness, the blur turned into the woman pictured here. She wore an olive brown (you know that 70s color) swimsuit—but all I zoomed in on was that one pendulum of a breast that dangled in my face.
That breast still haunts me to this day. I never got in a pool again.