This is Chapter Two. If you missed Chapter One click here and go back and read it first.
Andy and I at approximately 16 years old. I was in one of the short shorts I made a lot of and a short top I wore similar to those I always wore. Ah, to be young and thin!
Teresa Dean at age 16 in my bikini. I was a born flirt.
Teresa Dean at age 17 in my hip huggers. In winter I lived in these types of hip-huggers.
Teresa Dean Smeigh at age 19, just 6 months after we got married. Andy was in boot camp and I had to send a picture of me in my bathing suit to be hung on the board. He was the only one married there, but he put me on the board anyhow. He was proud of me.
I was an exhibitionist and a born flirt from my preteen years to my mid-adult years. In real life, men were always attracted to me even when I gained the extra weight, and I couldn’t help myself when it came to flirting. I remember one year, my mom watched me, and she turned to my sister and said, “She still has it.” I had been flirting for something I wanted. Men just naturally gave me things for free. Later on, my husband started to send me into the auto parts stores because there was a good chance the man working the counter would give me the item.
My self-esteem rose when I knew a man was excited by me. I dressed very skimpily whenever I could. I needed proof that I was somebody, be it hot, sexy, pretty, whatever. I just felt like I was nothing all of my life.
My first real job was as a salesgirl for Wanamakers in the mall in Deptford, NJ. The mall was still in the process of being built, but several stores, including Wanamakers, were already open. I never thought about there being a dress code; after all, I was just a teenager. On my first day, I arrived at work in my usual attire of a micro-mini skirt and a tight top that barely covered my stomach.
My boss took one look at me and said, “I won’t send you home right now because we need you, but you need to lower your skirts to your knees or wear pants. And all tops must cover your stomach.”
That wouldn’t be easy as my wardrobe didn’t contain many of those. I spent the next couple of days sewing suits – pants, skirts, and a matching jacket, and I got some shirts to wear with the jacket. More sewing than I usually did since most things I made didn’t take more than a half a yard of material. A suit with a pair of pants and a skirt with a jacket took a lot of work. I made a couple, and each could make two outfits, and I worked part-time, so I had enough for the week. The pants I usually wore weren’t acceptable either because I wore hip huggers since my waist was about 16 to 18 inches tops. I had an hourglass figure and had to buy the pants to fit my hips.
At that point, I weighed 86 pounds and had a large chest. I loved it when men gawked at me. Even better was when traffic would stop as men stared at me, almost causing a few traffic accidents. Those days it would make me feel so good about myself. I was a teenager and didn’t know any better. Like I mentioned earlier, I would make my clothes and would make lots of short shorts, short tops and halters and of course micro-mini skirts. I had a sexy body, and I knew it. I loved to show it off. If a man was around, he was usually attracted to me and stared. Nowadays, there would probably be just as many women openly admiring me as men since everyone is coming out of the closet.
Now that I was married and in North Carolina with my husband, I resumed my behavior after an incident that happened one day while I was taking him lunch on base. Our mobile home park was close enough that I could drop him off in the morning and return at lunchtime with his food, so he didn’t have to eat just sandwiches. I could cook him something hot and bring it just as easy.
So, every day I made his lunch and drove it to him on base. On the first day, I found the parking lot where he could locate me and sat in my car with the door open, and I sat sideways in my seat with my legs out and on the ground. I was nervous. It was hot, and I wore short shorts and a halter.
Then I could hear a group of men coming as they were marching to a military cadence. It was fascinating to watch them marching in unison and repeating the rhythm their leader was shouting. It was mesmerizing.
What I wasn’t ready for was as they came abreast of my car was the leader shouting, “Eyes left!” The platoon, as a whole, turned to face my car and took in the sight of me sitting there skimpily dressed.
It was very disconcerting at first, having all those eyes fastened on me. I eventually got used to it happening and provided visual entertainment for the troops most days. My exhibitionism was back in full swing. I didn’t know it then, but there was a dress code for both military and dependents, and I was in violation of it in those clothes while on base. Since I didn’t get out of the car, it wasn’t a big deal, but it meant not getting out to spend time with my husband while I insisted on dressing like that and, for that matter, it was frowned upon if you kissed in public. They had a rule against public displays of affection, so we couldn’t even kiss goodbye when I left. They certainly had a lot of rules. It eventually became: I drove up, waited, he came to me, and I handed him his lunch, and without a kiss, he headed out to eat.
As fall approached and the temperatures were cooling down, I had to change my wardrobe anyhow and start to wear maternity clothes. I was quite large, and you couldn’t miss that baby, and so people stared at me for that. Strangers would come up and touch or rub my belly. There’s something about a pregnant woman, especially a tiny one with a large belly. I was still under 100 pounds at the beginning. Sorry to say I never saw that number again after the first child. Each child caused an increase in my weight, which I have never been able to get rid of to this day.