Bigger Boobs Do Not Always Mean Better

Breasts. Boobs. Tits. Ta Tas. Chi Chis. Fun-bags. Melons. Along with a few hundred different epithets, they come in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes. And thanks to the wonders of plastic surgery, there’s even more variety to be had in the size department. Just ask Sheyla Hershey, the woman who was recently denied her 9th boob job. Hershey’s dreams to move up from a FFF-cup to a GG were dashed because apparently, America, the country that has no concept of “moderation” has established a legal limit for silicone.

When I was in 8th grade, I went from flat-as-a-board to a large C in a matter of months; when I discovered binge drinking in college, my Freshman Fifteen accumulated in my breasts, and I was busting out of 36 DD bras, but refused to buy anything bigger because I felt like a freak. Over the past year, a strict cardio regimen has reduced my girls to a 34 DD, but I still long for the old days: a perky pair no bigger than a handful. That being said, why Miss Hershey would intentionally strive for the “World’s Biggest Breasts” is beyond me.

I can’t wear halter tops. Tube tops have never even been an option. Empire waists cut across the middle of my boobs, and any triangle cut will have me looking like a prostitute. To all the petite girls out there: the next time you are getting ready to go out to a bar or club, pick something out that doesn’t fall into one of these categories. More often than not, I end up feeling like a librarian when I’m surrounded by girls who can show off their shoulders, backs, and not-obscene cleavage.

My boobs are embarrassing. Once a friend developed a picture of me, and doubled over with laughter because my jugs looked ginormous in the pic. I’ve also had small children point and laugh. I worked at a restaurant with a female manager who was notorious for not buttoning her blouse all the way, and a coworker called her out on her unprofessional cleavage. Her response? “Kathryn shows off her cleavage!” Not willing to be her scapegoat, I snapped, “I could wear a turtleneck and I’d still have cleavage.” It was only funny because, sadly, it’s true.

I wish I could see what I’d look like with a more proportioned rack. I bet I’d look like I lost ten pounds, if only my upper “half” didn’t account for 75% of my body weight. I bet my lady lumps wouldn’t fly out of control on the elliptical, despite being strapped in by a sports bra and support tank. Above all, I bet I would never, ever consider going under the knife for a breast enlargement surgery. Let alone NINE surgeries. Can breasts be too big? My vote is in: YES.

[Photo courtesy of Boinkology.com]