When I was younger, I was so desperate for my bust to grow. I wore 3 padded bras at the same time to a disco once, spending ages with my back flexed in the mirror, impressed at the foam fakery on my chest.
I developed very young- I had to start wearing a bra when I was 9, so when I was around 12 or so I was a hot commodity at school. I remember wearing a Lycra t-shirt to school once (it was the 90’s) and being surrounded by a dribbling drooling staring bunch of boys who suddenly wanted to talk to me. Fat I was, yes, ugly, yes, a nerd, yes but BOOBS.
My breasts grew to a certain size and then stayed there, and the rest of me continued to grow. I sort of “evened out” until they no longer looked bizarre on my frame. However, all around me girls grew and grew and outgrew me, and I was no longer a stand out in the crowd. However, when I was about 16 or 17, I turned (seemingly overnight) from a modest 34B to a 36DD, and now I sit at a 36E and sometimes 36F in certain styles. So yeah, I do have a pretty large chest.
It’s funny how sexualized breasts are. What are they, really? Just two bags of fat, nerves and glands. They come in a wide variety- be they enormous or tiny, perky or droopy etc, and yet we are endlessly fascinated. Breast enhancement surgery is still extremely popular, and a lot of women admit they would feel sexier with a larger bust. However, breasts do not make the woman. But I have to be honest, if for any reason I must have my breasts removed, I would struggle very much to come to terms with this. Men have breast tissue naturally, and some woman have such a low amount their breasts are flat to their chest. Large breasts do not automatically make you unattractive or attractive, nor do small ones automatically make you unattractive or attractive.
Other people do seem to find it oddly compelling to comment on your breasts when they are large. I have a colleague who mentions mine every time I see her, rather as if there was nothing about me that was at all interesting apart from my chest dumplings. I’ve had them all over the years “I bet you get served first at the bar”, “You’ve got such tiny feet because nothing grows in the shade.” Women, in particular, seem to have an endless fascination with my breasts, asking if they can squeeze them, poke their finger in my cleavage etc. Some women seem to find you maternal and sisterly when you’re wearing a large jumper, and then some will stare with hateful envy when you wear something low cut. An old colleague of mine spent the whole night glaring, adjusting her ruffled shirt as if two magic new boobs would appear, and then loudly remarked in front of me to her friend “Imagine Sarah getting those out, that’s a surprise.” Quite of a lot of women I know, particularly those with a very small bust who are not happy with that, refer to my breasts as “those”, often with a disdainful point or glance downwards.
Now, the thing is, I’m just as nature made me, and that is not a dig at those who choose to enhance their bust. Your body, your choice, it’s none of my business. But, I can’t really help the size of these. A few people have quite nastily remarked that if I lose weight they would reduce, but I assure you, they don’t. They remain this size whatever my weight. My Mum’s side of the family have very modest chests; my Dad’s side, very generous. I take after them, and that’s all there is to it.
Clothing is an issue, endlessly. Tops have to be purchased two sizes larger- forget even considering a button up shirt, it just won’t happen. Coats strain, t-shirts become clingy and even the most basic of bog standard tank tops leaves an acre of cleavage on display. I have had to return so many clothes that looked really great everywhere except my chest because I either could not fit my bust into them at all, or they strained comically over me. My most embarrassing moment was in the changing rooms of a well-known department store, when I got a strapless top stuck on my breasts and had to be cut out of it. My bridesmaid dress had to be let out 16 inches around the bust. I have purchased a dress before, breathed in and ripped open a side seam. My dress to my friend’s wedding involved a complicated scenario where I essentially wore no bra and pushed my breasts under my armpits to make it fit.
Bra’s are expensive, and often, totally unflattering. I walk home from work and at the moment- it’s very cold. So you understand why I need a bra with padding yes? No-one deserves to see me smuggling peanuts. I do not want a beige horror fest. Straps are often very thin and cut deeply into the flesh, leaving red marks. I get peculiar back and underarm ‘hammocks’ of fat. I wore a minimiser bra once and it honestly felt like someone had jammed two rotten squishy cucumbers under my armpits. After years of paying through the nose, I now buy mine at Primark. I nearly always snap a strap or break the underwire but at around £7 per bra I honestly don’t mind. I find them an excellent fit and very comfortable.
Manfacturers and clothing retailers still have a lot of learn- but most companies who sell underwear now go up to much larger sizes and down to much smaller sizes- as finally people recognise just how vastly different we all are.
My breasts are extremely heavy as well, and as such I cannot sleep on my back as they hurt my chest. I can’t sleep on my front without my hands underneath them as if I do; I rest all of my weight onto them. I sleep on my side, with my boyfriends arm jammed underneath them to prop them up. A friend of mine sleeps in her bra, as hers are very large and when her husband turns over in bed he catches her nipples, which is agony.
So there we have it really, that’s what it’s really like. I just think that maybe we need to stop commenting on each others busts and be happy with what we’ve got. Yes, I have just moaned ceaselessly about my puppies but I would never change them. They fit my frame and I would look very odd without them. My boyfriend is obsessed with them, literally obsessed to the point where if I could take them off and leave them with him he wouldn’t ever need me again. I do see people staring, mesmerised at them occasionally, and my friend, drunk as a sailor at her hen night, slammed her face into them and yelled “THESE ARE AMAZING.”
Actually, all boobs are amazing, and you should love yours. I have never, ever, seen a pair of boobs in real life that are perfectly round, perfectly symmetrical, with perfect tiny nipples. Seriously. I have one that is quite markedly larger than the other one. Near enough every woman I know has nipple hair- it’s not a big deal, so don’t worry, and if you still are not laughing, bear in mind my boyfriend tells me when I turn over violently in my sleep, my jubblies slap together and make a loud clapping noise. Wah-hey!
We will ever get over our fascination with breasts? I honestly don’t know and I honestly doubt it. The only thing I do know is, I will never again run downstairs when not wearing a bra.