Let me tell you a bit about my boobs. I hit puberty at 10, and from what I had gleaned from the ‘grown up’ books I illicitly read, I was under the impression that boobs should be small, perfectly formed and tipped with small pink nipples. I used to have fond dreams that someday I would have boobs like that. However that wasn’t how it turned out. Throughout my life my boobs have been a disappointment to me.
It started quite young. I was about 11 and changing clothes with my mum in my room. She looked at my chest and disgusted, asked me, ‘do you have breast cancer?’ Even at that age they looked so deformed as to look cancerous. I had actually kind of liked them before that. They were still smallish, and triangular and pointy. But after that began the hatred. As I grew older they started sagging. I used to think that that was something which happened only with age but clearly not to me. I blamed it on my mother for not letting me wear a proper bra. I still clung on to some sort of hope in my early teens that I would ‘grow out’ of them. As I went onto my late teens that hope became the hope of a breast lift when I was old enough. And finally those hopes were dashed when I found out that a boob lift would leave me with hideous, disfiguring scars because of my tendency for keloids.
Then came the time I got naked with a guy for the first time. By this time I was convinced that there was something wrong with my boobs. That they were not normal. I begged him and begged him to not take off my bra but he did. And there they were, my boobs, with nothing separating them from him. As he looked at them his previously eager face visibly fell. After a pause that went on for what felt like hours he finally said ‘they’re…interesting.’ I don’t think I’ll never forget the horror of that.
I grew up thinking that my body was the bane of my existence but my boobs were especially so. They were what I hated most about myself. Here are some of the adjectives I have used (and still use) to describe them:
I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with them. I have spent most of my life wishing them away. Wearing minimiser bras even when I was a B-Cup in order to try and make them look smaller. That was when I was still trying to look thin and boyish. It wasn’t until recently that I have wanted them to be bigger. Wishing them bigger or smaller – in the end it amounts to being deeply unhappy with them. No one has ever called them ‘amazing’. No one has ever called them ‘sexy’. No one has ever called them ‘beautiful’. I have received only the lukewarmest of praise for them from previous partners. The barest minimum that was required to keep me from accusing them of not liking them. Since I hate my boobs so much, I also have never paid much attention to what I am wearing on them. I have an anathema of pretty bras. I cannot bring myself to wear pretty bras. I have tried and failed. I always revert back to plain nude or white grandmother bras and wear them till they are torn. Why would anyone want to spend money and effort on something they hate so much? Recently however I have been looking at a few lingerie blogs and I realised that even though nothing can be done about my boobs when I’m naked, they CAN be made to look better clothed. A chance remark by my ex yesterday made me decide that I need a push up bra in my life, that I need to fake the kind of cleavage that makes guys obsess over the most average of women. I had heard of Leia Lingerie from Hanna who very helpfully found out for me that they have a store in York. I walked in today for a bra fitting and walked out with a pretty butterfly bra from Freya. They were really really nice at the store and got me to try on a variety of styles and sizes that could be right for me. I turned out to be a 36 E, not a 36 DD as I thought I was. I have been telling myself ‘that’s respectable for a fat girl, right?’ This bra does amazing things for my boobs. I never knew I could get this much lift! I might never ever love my boobs and be convinced that they can only ever be liked by perverts who are into deformed body parts but when I’m in this bra I can forget that for a bit and feel a little bit of what a normal woman with an amazing chest feels like.
Wearing: Freya ‘Martha’ and Revlon’s ‘Black Cherry’.
The creases on the sides of my boobs are because they are just so horribly saggy that when you push them up, they get that fold.
With the magic of self-portrait-in-a-mirror-posing.
With a top on. So much lift!
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