She Made Me Strangely Dizzy…
There are lots of sour things about getting old. One of the worst is watching people who were young when I came of age in the late fifties and early sixties reach old age and die.
When I was experiencing the early spring of adolescence, I became enraptured with Annette Funicello, one of the original mouseketeers. To be more precise, I was enraptured by her precocious breasts that so nicely filled out her white sweater. When I would see her swelling chest I would become a little dizzy and excited (why I felt those emotions I had no idea). As time passed and Annette and I both matured my fascination grew as her bosom grew more prominent.
My interest waned as I reached my mid teens. By then I understood what my reaction to her comely tits meant. I knew enough about sex to know what I yearned for. Other, sexier women, Marilyn Monroe and Hugh Hefner’s luscious big-titted Playments, for example, fueled my surging erotic fantasies.
Still, Funicello retained a near mythical place in my heart. She was the first to stir the sap, becoming the avatar of my boyish sexual desire.
Now, at seventy, she is gone. Another bright, alluring light of my youth extinguished. Only in sweet memory do her girlish face and figure burn bright.