The Perils Of Having Big Boobs

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I love my big boobs but it’s not always easy being well endowed in the chest-al region. My mom is a 44 Triple D, that’s the equivalent of an F in bra sizes. Her chesticles came in that size when she was nine years old. Life was not easy for my big boobed mom. I’ve been genetically dealt some bigger Cs, probably Ds but I’m probably in denial and it’s annoying as hell.

My jibblets were the first to come in during elementary school so naturally my fourth grade peers would love to tell me and everyone they knew that, “Emerald stuffs her bra!” I wasn’t even wearing a bra, stupids! Then in middle school when they came in with full fury, I’d overhear the guys talking about how I had the biggest breasts in our grade.

The only thing worse than hearing people openly discuss your body like it’s a display piece made for criticism is actually living with having big boobs. Clothing is just not made for big boobs. I mean, clothing is not made for big anything just look at the body sizes on the runways. Clothing today is tailored to suit figureless waifs. There’s nothing wrong with having that kind of body or making clothes for it but I would like to wear an oxford button down one day without looking like a lumpy boxy weirdo.

What was most bothersome is that people always see boobs as sexual and when you’re 10 years old the last thing you want is to be heckled, cat called or harassed by men who look like your dad because they think your developed body means you’re “asking for it.” Being curvy has always put one face to the world that didn’t feel like my true face at all. That I was this sultry, womanly person or something, when really I felt more like an alternative girl and a dork. I dressed very unflatteringly for years trying to hide my boobs because I didn’t want people staring at them or because I just liked clothes that didn’t look “good” on my body.

Speaking of clothes, buying tops is an often horrible task and I thank jebus fashion is posturing toward a more baggy look because it hides my tatas and makes me look like a fashionable shapeless blob instead of just Ditto from Pokemon or Flubber from that Robin Williams movie.

Anything with buttons in the front looks “incorrect” on me. Anything that doesn’t cinch at the waist makes me look like Spongebob Squarepants because along with my big boobs, I have wide hips and when you are hourglass anything that doesn’t accentuate your waist makes you look rectangular or square.

I can never wear dresses or shirts that you’re not supposed to wear a bra with. I can never wear any of those shirts with built in bras. I can never wear anything with buttons going down the front. I can never wear those cute bandeau bras or bralets. I mean I can, and if you do have big boobs and wear those things, more power to you but I have not the courage.

Financing these tatas are a hassle as well. Bras are expensive as it is but finding the kind that actually hold up my sweater puppies is a hassle. Not to mention that bras are already uncomfortable as it is but when gravity is pulling at your boobs there are all kinds of back problems that ensue from straps digging into your shoulders and the extra weight you have to carry around.

Bras wear out a lot quicker because they have to work a lot harder and so I am constantly buying new ones. They aren’t cute ones either. I don’t get to wear any of those funky colored, lacy bras they sell at fashion stores. I have to get the equivalent of orthopedic shoe bras. Plain, boring, boob harnesses.

I don’t hate my boobs altogether. They’re fiiiiiiine. They’re even nice. Dudes like them. Sometimes they can be a pain to live with. An inconvenience to my fashion preferences and wallet. I wouldn’t change them if I didn’t have to but someday, maybe someday, I’d like to find a bathing suit that doesn’t make me look really discombobulated.

[Image Via. Shutter Stock / simon johnsen]

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