The Booth Each step reminded me why I wanted to use the booth. My breasts still jostled with every stride. It’s been that way since I was twelve-- looking back on it now, it seemed like they grew over night. I folded my arms under them, it doesn’t help. In fact, it draws more attention from passing men and some women. The attention doesn’t bother me as much as the dull ache of pain in my back. I heard about the booth from a friend, Janice. She came to me looking like some sort of porn star, like she held out her hands and said: “out to here, please.” like we jokingly did before we grew our own breasts. Janice hadn’t been so ‘lucky’ with perky B cups that drew plenty of attention from boys. She just didn’t know any better. I imagine she’ll change her tune in a few weeks--