ELAINE MUELLER had been every bit a tomboy when, in the
spring of 1936, she met Foley Menutis. She had matured late, and so
the ongoing battle for physical equality with her three brothers had
been prolonged, and had given her a false confidence that her eligibility
for the contest might remain forever fixed. But at fourteen, her thin,
hard-fleshed, shaftlike body began to change, and by the start of her
fifteenth year, she had been transformed. Her waist drew in, her chest
filled out, her hips took on the kind of flesh that usually attracts even
the most obtuse male observer. Her thighs broadened and her legs filled
out at the calves. Even her eyes changed, deepening to the color of the
sea at the two extremities of the day. Only her mouth remained the
same: The lips stayed full and red, as if nature had swept over them
without swooping down, since they were already perfect for her pur-
poses.
Despite the alterations that overcame her, her toughness and
strength stayed with her, and if her muscle and flesh were now ar-
ranged in a dazzling shell, her character was a thistle in the heart of a
rose. She had endurance and a tolerance for pain. She was a fine athlete,
and even after her sudden transformation, the gym teacher continued
to tell her so. For three years, she had been the best runner at school;
at basketball she dominated, not because she was tall--she was of only
medium height--but because she was the fastest, the most aggressive,
and her shots were deadly accurate. She was captain of the team; she
had a purple and gold letter jacket with three stripes, which she wore
to the limits of the season. Like all people of her type, she had a healthy
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