The other day, I bought a bra that was so big, I was embarrassed at check out. (This is coming from a woman who is embarrassed by almost nothing.)
I mean, seriously though. This bra looked like I tied two giant IKEA bags together and stuck them on a hanger. I believe the words “full figure” were written somewhere on the tag. I threw that sucker in my cart and got out of the bra aisle as quickly as possible. On my way out, I made sure to throw major shade at those cute, little, lacy bralettes hanging out there in front, the ones hiding all the bowling ball bags in the back row. BRA-LETTE. The name says it all. Like a bra, but miniature and adorable and made for perfect little ta-ta’s.
I have no idea what it’s like to be small chested, and I’m sure that it certainly comes with its own set of challenges. And keeps many a plastic surgeon in business, right? I have friends and family members that swear they would trade me for my bodacious bosom (well, pre-nursed bodacious bosom anyways). And to that I say, “Walk a day in my shoes, ahem…boobs.”
I’ve never had to stuff my bra a day of my life. I’ve never had to worry about not having cleavage. But I’ve also never worn a pretty bra. And I’ve never even wanted to show my cleavage because I am absolutely disgusted by the way it looks. It’s not even good cleavage. It’s just big, fat, overflowing heaps of boob.
Now if you think I’m being hard on myself, I am. This is one part of my body that I am incapable of loving (much to my husbands’ shock). My breasts have been the bane of my physical existence since my teenage years. And currently, I’m ticking off the days until their eviction notice.
One might wonder why having three D’s in your bra size might be inconvenient. Let me tell you:
- The constant struggle of having to find shirts that fit. Or tank tops that cover the runway size bra straps. And you can forget about anything that buttons. V-neck shirts are also usually out of the question. So options quickly become limited.
- Posture/Back Pain. My posture has become so poor the older I’ve gotten because it physically hurts to sit up straight and support these boulders. My back ALWAYS hurts. Everyday. All day.
- The sagging. Saggy breasts are natural as women age and especially after having (and nursing) children. But when you have 12lb bowling balls on your chest, it becomes much more uncomfortable when they begin to sag. I literally feel like they pull my entire upper body down. Like I’m just shrinking into one big hunchback boob.
- Oh, what fun it is to run or jump! I’ve definitely worn more than one sports bra at one time just to keep these puppies from giving me a black eye. It’s painful, it’s embarrassing. It’s hard not to be self-conscious at the gym when every motion of the elliptical sends the girls into a full jiggle.
- Last but not least, 2 words: bathing suits. I mean we can all agree that this is just the worst. No matter your bust, no matter your size. I have spent decades trying to find a suit that supports my girls, covers them up (but not too much), and is still somewhat attractive. I’ve finally settled on a solid black “Miracle Suit” tankini that costs over $100. So yeah, that’s been really exciting.
Y’all. This pity party is not just for me. I know there are others out there, reading this blog right now that are fighting this good fight with me. You. Are. Not. Alone. And your feelings are valid. You are allowed to hate your huge breasts. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re lucky to have these things strapped to your chest. For me, I know that my future holds a breast reduction and lift. Sayonara SUCK’AS. Ta-Ta to the Ta-Ta’s. Buh-Bye bodacious bosom.
Let me be heard. As much as I loathe my breast size, I am here to say: to each their own! Some women love a bigger chest and I say go for it. So this is in no way putting down anyone who loves their large breasts. Embrace them if you love them!
But me? I’ll be stocking up on those bralettes for the future.