The Bewb Post
My new friend Dru (who is pretty awesome by the way), posted a blog entry about her lack of boobs and how it makes her feel and rather than leave her a length comment about how the other side lives, I thought it be easier if I did my own blog entry about having too much boobs and how it makes me feel.
Like Dru, my family has made fun of the size of my breasts as long as I can remember. The difference? Instead of making fun of me for not having anything, I was made fun of for having too much.
“Did they grow again?” “Damn! What are you eating?” etc….
On top of teasing from my family, there was school.
Being the only girl in the 7th grade that is a C cup gets attention. For wrong reasons. I was almost immediately labeled easy because I had boobs. Newsflash: big boobs does not a slut make. So, I became a “weird” girl so that people would not pay attention to me. It worked. A little bit anyway.
By high school I was a D cup and boys had started making bets “behind my back” about my boobs. Who could guess the right size? Who could cop a feel? Who could get me topless in an upstairs band practice room? I found out because one of the guys had the cojones to come up to me one day and say, “Hey, Alice…help me win a bet. What’s your bra size?” I definitely grew a complex in high school over my boobs.
How would you feel if you were walking to class and random guys would reach out and pinch your nipple and before you could turn to do anything, whoever had done it was lost in the sea of bodies in the hallways? Exactly. Nothing to do but nurse the hurt quietly and go to class feeling cheap.
During my time at KU I grew more comfortable in my skin. I was a D cup and people commented a lot on the size of boobs, but by this time my skin was thick enough that I could ignore it like it was nothing. I couldn’t change my boobs, so I simply embraced them.
It seemed/seems that every time I go into a bra store for a new bra…my bra size kept getting bigger.
Suddenly, I was a DD.
Insecurity spread through me the way the warmth of a cup of cocoa seeps into your bones on a cold night.
It was bad enough that I’ve never known the ease of going braless or wearing one of those tank tops with the built in bras. I’d already given up the dream of wearing a cute lace bra or a bra with funky colors or polka dots/stripes.
And then I became a Triple D.
Who knew that size even existed??
Now the only colors my bras come in are white, cream and black. Occasionally red or gray, but not often. I can only go to Lane Bryant/Cacique for my bras where I am only comfortable in one of the many styles they carry. Now I spend an average of $50 per bra — cause more material means the price goes up.
Needless to say, I currently have one bra that fits…and two that are a bit snug…cause I just don’t have the money to keep buying bras when my boobs continue to freaking grow!
Not only do I deal with the teasing, but now bras are something I have to budget for.
Then summer rolls around.
All the bathing suits come out to play, but I don’t get to wear them, because while the bottoms may fit, the tops don’t. One pieces either fit at the top and are loose at the bottom or vice versa. The ones in “big girl” stores are too big.
Just because I have big boobs, does not mean I am a big girl. I have an average body. It’s just the boobs that are out of control.
So I “special” order my bathing suits online and I do this every year because by next summer, my boobs will have grown so I’ll need a new one.
I’ve thought a lot about breast reduction surgery. If I had the money, I’d do it in a heart beat. I’m not stupid. Even though I’ve never had a lot of back problems, I know it’s only a matter of time. It’s already uncomfortable to sleep. I can’t sleep on my sides, the weight is too much. Same when I sleep on my back. So I’m forced to sleep on my stomach so that I don’t choke myself to death in my sleep with my own cleavage.
If I could get the reduction surgery, I would. But I’m in college and held down with both the weight of my boobs and the amount of debt I’ve accrued to go to said college. I’d like to work out, because I’m sure they’d go down a teeny tiny bit (and every teeny tiny bit would help)…but sports bras don’t fit, my bra isn’t supportive enough for a work out and boob sweat is not attractive. Not to mention jumping/bouncing/running — that hurts.
So when I see girls getting surgery to make their boobs as big as mine or even bigger, I shake my head. It’s one things to have surgery to make your boobs a little bigger for a small self esteem boost, but going out of control and making yourself unproportionate — I hate to see that.
I was born unproportionate.
I’m 5’2″ with size 40DDD. I’m not stupid. People look at me and my torso is nearly invisible because I’m all boobs.
And I still endure the teasing.
If you have small or average or even big (cause face it, I’m not big, I’m ridiculous) boobs. Be happy with who you are and what you have. If you want surgery, do it if it’s what you truly want — but do not get ridiculous.
I know that someday I’ll get a reduction. I’ll have to. I want kids someday…and boobs only get bigger with pregnancy.
And I cannot stand to think of my boobs getting bigger.
Dru said one of her dreams is to work at Hooters.
My dream? To look proportionate.
[Dru posted pictures to illustrate her point. I was considering doing the same, but most of my pictures are from the shoulders up. There’s a reason for that..I get enough attention without needing to plaster my massive cleavage all over the interwebz.]
So what are you thoughts on itty bitty vs. big n’ busty?