Rite of Passage

rite of passage: This was particularly stupid because I was 12 years old and flat as an ironing board. But thieving from the junky neighbourhood emporium was a rite of passage among my circle of girlfriends, the dare you dared not decline lest being branded a goody-goody and cast upon the ash heap of uncool and shunned outcasts, according to The Star. All these years later, I can still recall the mortification after a lady store detective caught me B-cup red-handed. It wasnt so much the pilfering that caused my cheeks to burn. It was the tittering triggered by that lacy pink article as it emerged from inside my coat sleeve, padded mounds sticking up accusatorily when deposited on the desk between us. What possible use could you have for this and I was once caught stealing from Honest Eds a bra. A brassiere was the item ordered up by the queen bee toughie chick of our preteen clique, a girl who d arrived at hooter bona fides earlier than everyone else. (www.immigrantscanada.com). As reported in the news.