I agree they probably knew they couldn’t get away with that with the girls. I also feel there were other factors, including attitudes of that time and things about me that made them think they could get away with it with me, and they were right.
I was always put on the skins team for PE, so day in and day out, the whole class was always seeing my bare breasts jiggling and bouncing and my nipples getting hard in the cold air. And as it happened time and time again, I believe my feelings were morphing from shame and embarrassment to toleration and acceptance. You can’t live in a daily state of shame and embarrassment; you have to find ways to tolerate and accept.
Sometimes I would stand topless in front of the mirror home alone and move like I did in PE, so I could see what everyone in class was seeing. As my nipples would become saluted on my pointy breasts, sometimes I would joke to myself be careful you don’t poke somebody’s eye out with that. Or I might think to myself how they must enjoy seeing my naked breasts jiggle and bounce.
I did not enjoy being forced to put on a “titty show,” as I called it to myself. But who was I going to complain to, the PE teacher? That would make it worse. The principal, who would certainly side with the teacher? So, over and over I put on my “titty shows,” and I just accepted that was the way it was.
As 42CSurprise! correctly notes, I did come to appreciate having breasts, but over time, and as a more knowledgeable, personal pleasure as I described in my posts about being own girlfriend.
Looking back on it, though, I have also come to realize how submissive I was. For example, I was told if I didn’t want my nipples twisted I had to ask for my nipples to be pulled, so I meekly asked. I was told to wear tops that my nipples would poke through, so I did.
It made an impression on me that, when I was deciding what to wear to school, I would now look in the mirror to make sure I was sufficiently nipping out, whereas before, I had paid no attention. When I now would see my nipples very much poking through a certain top, and while my instinct would be not to wear it, I would instead consciously choose to wear it because I did not want to be hurt.
On bad days when my nipples had been twisted, I would go home afterwards and look in the mirror and worry my nipples did not poke through my top enough and probably I should not wear that top again. I would soothe my nipples with my Lansinoh and wonder what I had done wrong. Should I have asked more convincingly to have my nipples pulled. I would tell myself to do better tomorrow.
Days when my nipples were pulled I would go home and look approvingly in the mirror at how noticeably I was nipping out. I would then pull to see how it feels to pull on my nipples and I would begin to appreciate how they got harder and thicker and even a little longer from the attention.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was learning to become my own girlfriend.