The Busty Battle

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One common thing I hear when girls are talking about what they wish was different about themselves is that they want bigger boobs. I have a message for those girls. EMBRACE YOUR NON-GIGANTIC BOOBS! My enormous chest is something I have been insecure about for most of my life: since the fourth grade, when I started getting boobs. (Let me just insert here that I hate the word breasts. I don’t know why.) Now I don’t use the words “enormous” or “gigantic” lightly, because I’m not talking DD big. My boobs sprouted when I was 10 and have continued to grow for 10 years (I sincerely hope they have finally stopped) landing me at a size 32/34 I. I joke and say the “I” stands for “I need a bigger bra!” I think it goes without saying that I was always more developed than my peers all through middle and high school, and this remains true now in college. This has not made life easy. (If you have read my post on my insecurities, you may remember that my bust is one of them.) In fact, if I had a dollar for every time someone has commented or questioned me about my boobs, I would probably be able to pay a semester’s worth of rent. Here’s just a little insight to the life of a busty girl.

  1. Finding a bra is next to impossible once you surpass a D. It seems that relators assume that if you have a need for large cups, you also have a need for a large band. In my case, this caused a lot of problems in high school. When you are a DD, band sizes usually start at a 38 and go up from there. If you are lucky, you may find a rare 36 DD in a dull purple that you are forced to buy simply because you have no other options. Once you hit DDD, forget it and move on. The bigger your bust gets, the less options you have for bras. Even stores such as Victoria’s Secret have a very small selection for larger sizes. (Does VS carry my size? NOPE!) I spent my senior year of high school in a bra with a broken underwire that was a cup size too small, because I didn’t really have another option. I spent the next year and a half squeezing into bras that were several sizes too small. Finally, this past year, I found a store that carried my size. Nordstrom became my saving grace, and blessed me with three bras that actually fit properly. One of them was even a sports bra! I hadn’t owned a decent fitting sports bra since the ninth grade. However, these glorious gifts did not come cheap. Those three bras cost about $250- I think they are laced with gold. Next, I shall attempt to find a swimsuit top that fits. I don’t have high hopes.
  1. Everything you wear has cleavage. Unless it’s a turtle neck, you’ll probably be showing off your bosom one way or another. If someone tells you that your clothes show off too much of your chest, challenge them to find you something that doesn’t. Maybe they’ll have better luck than you. As far as I know, all attempts to hide my colossal chest have failed. I’m starting to think there is no way to hide them. Also, forget about shirts with a design or wording on the front: it’ll just end up distorted.
  1. They are REALLY HEAVY. Your back and neck HURTS. All the time. We are talking approximately 10 pounds… per boob. It’s like carrying a small child, but you can never put the child down… because it is attached to you. This is especially difficult when you want to work out, particularly where running is concerned. People will say they understand your struggle. They don’t understand. Not even a little.
  1. The joys of sexual harassment. Thank you middle school for exposing me to this at an early age. When you are the only girl in your grade that has outgrown a training bra, people are going to notice. Those people were, of course, the middle school boys! I quickly lost track of the number of times my boobs were poked, grabbed, and “accidently grazed.” Every day, at least one prepubescent boy was trying to touch my then C cups. It didn’t stop there: I was also the root of many jokes and snide comments. I had many nicknames, the most memorable being “Bouncy House.” At the time, I did my best to laugh with them and brush it all off. However, I still tried my best to hide my prominent chest. When it was happening, it all seemed like harmless fun, but looking back I see it for what it really was. Sexual harassment. I have learned a valuable lesson from this realization: Just because someone is laughing with you, doesn’t mean what you’re doing is okay. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not trying to make light of the serious issue that is sexual harassment. However, I cannot change the past, and I am the type who chooses to laugh about the things I cannot change. It’s how I keep my sanity.
  1. They catch EVERYTHING. Every crumb gets stuck in the abyss, making Nature Valley granola bars a real hassle. If you drop something, particularly food, chances are your monumental chest will catch it. I once lost a French fry in my cleavage- it took a solid half hour to find it. I also have burn scar from when the inside of my pizza roll fell out and my monstrous chest caught it… when it was fresh out of the microwave. In short, the perk: they catch things. The downside is that sometimes things get lost in there.
  1. The endless questions and comments. How I do deal with the endless steam of boob related conversation? What goes through my head when I am fielding these questions and comments? “Your boobs are so big” Yes, thank you, I hadn’t noticed. “How big are they?” Huge. Next question. “Are they heavy?” What do you think? “Why don’t you just get a reduction?” Oh, I hadn’t thought of that! Thank you for your amazing insight. “How do they get so big?” I don’t have time to explain genetics to you. Ask a biology teacher. “Can I feel them?” Can I feel your face with my fist? This list is endless. Getting questions about my bust has become a second nature to me to the point where it no longer offends me. It just provides entertainment and a fun story for my friends later.

Living with a huge chest has been no easy task, however I can’t help but look back and laugh about the whole thing. Don’t get me wrong, I curse my younger self for all the times she wished her boobs would be bigger, and I would trade them in for a nice set of B’s in a heartbeat, but reality is harsh. My massive set isn’t going anywhere in the foreseeable future, and there isn’t a whole lot I can do about that. The only thing I can really do is learn to embrace them, along with all the other parts of myself I don’t like. This is not always an easy thing to do, and some days it is easier to accept them than other days. However, we all have parts of ourselves we don’t like. We all have something about we wish we could change. So let this be a lesson: what you desire may be someone else’s antagonism or insecurity. The grass is not always greener on the other side, so keep working on your own grass, because to another person, yours IS greener. Never stop trying to love yourself.

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