When my sister and I were younger, the nextdoor neighbor, Marisa, was our babysitter. She had long, wavy, sandy blonde hair, much like Farah Fawcett, who we watched on Charlie's Angles. Everyone loved Farah. And Marisa was like our own real-life Farah. Everything about her was older and mature, and although we couldn't define it, sexually-charged.
Marisa loved hanging out in our backyard, on the redwood deck. She loved tanning. Back then, no one really knew any of the dangers we know now. AIDs hadn't been discovered, and the only thing girls like Marisa worried about was getting pregnant before high school graduation.
In the late 70s, everything seemed sexual. All the TV sitcoms were loaded with sexual innuendo, even silly ones like "Three's Company" often played off of the current trends of swinging and casual sex. Films strived to get an R rating, just to drive audience, and so nearly every movie seemed to have a gratuitous topless shot. Perhaps for this reason, going topless was seen as trendy, and very "grown up."
When Marisa did her sunning on our back deck, she spread out my baby blanket, which had been a patchwork quilt made by my great-grandma durning the Depression, and then handed down over the generations. Marisa loved it's soft well-worn calico fabrics to lay out on. She'd walk out in her very cool rainbow bikini. Then casually peel off her top and lay back, topless, and soak up rays.
I remember in 5th grade we had our first "sex ed" class at school. The teacher had a drawing of a male and a female at every step of puberty, lined up like a stair case. It was easy to spot which stage my sister was--small swells of breasts, but before the "curves" of a more mature woman. Marisa, on the other hand, had the full rounded breasts of the last and final stages of womanhood. She was 18, a high school senior; that meant the final and last chapter of youth.
The next year, she'd be gone to college. My sister and I would be old enough to watch ourselves. But I missed being able to watch Marisa. Sure, I spied on her from my bedroom window. I don't know if she knew, or cared. To me, she was a role model of being comfortable and confident with her body.
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