Mimi Iimuro Van Ausdall Mimi Iimuro Van Ausdall is a mixed-raced, queer writer and teacher. Her writing has appeared in Catapult, MUTHA, #MinneAsianStories, The Journal of Lesbian Studies, and Feminist Formations, among others. This submission is part of a manuscript of essays entitled Almost: Essays from an Almost Asian, Almost Lesbian, Almost Blind, Almost Mom. I can be reached at mvanausd@gmail.com and twitter: @writer_mimi.
Almost Breasts I’ve known my breasts for a long time. The three of us go way back. We got along pretty well during childhood, peacefully coexisting in various corduroy or polyester outfits. But we had a falling out when I turned thirteen or fourteen. They didn’t grow as breasts typically do for cis women. They didn’t even come out when I was sixteen. I watched my female friends’ figures become curvy, while my chest just lay there like the flatlands of Western Kansas. By age eighteen, my breasts and I were at war. I wouldn’t even touch the things I was so mad at them. I wish I could say that I simply have a petite frame with small perky breasts that coincide well with my stature. That’s not the case. I have my dad’s broad German shoulders and tall height. Apparently, I love my dad so much that I inherited his male chest right along with his toes, toes that my mom always said let everyone know that I wasn’t, as my dad taught her to say, “the mailman’s daughter.” My chest didn’t signal to anyone that I belonged to either of my parents, or to the human adult female species. My mom had perfectly lovely A-cup breasts that fit her frame. My sister had exactly perfect, perky breasts. I guess one aunt on my dad’s side had quite small breasts, but, again, they fit her willowy frame. Mine were just flat.
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