Dear Breast Size Obsession,
Wow the Good Men Project currently has everyone up in arms (um what does “up in arms” actually mean?- have to admit I am now envisioning Barbara Windsor in Carry on Camping but I suspect that isn’t it) about breast size. Any I’m particularly loving these posts from @Glosswitch, @SarahDitum and @Nathan Ditum and @Ropestoinfinity, and always being one to love a good boobie bandwagon I decided to add my two pennorth as I have a UNIQUE PERSPECTIVE on this. (well okay not that unique but one that maybe hasn’t been blogged about yet so thought I would scribble some thoughts down).
My UNIQUE PERSPECTIVE is I have been both a big breasted woman and a smaller breasted woman thanks to a breast reduction 11 years ago where I went from a whopping 34HH to a 36D (sometimes DD) with a whopping 7lbs of breast tissue removed (yes that is like the weight of a baby, yes I did have posture issues mainly from hunching trying to hide em, yes I had permanent grooves in my shoulders from my bra straps rubbing and yes it wasn’t fun).
Ok so I have hardly gone to fried egg/mosquito bites/less than a handful (and other offensive terms for “lesser of breast” than me, but I have gone possibly smaller than ideal for my large frame (I’m tall with childbearing hips- for balance I probably should have stayed a cup size or two bigger as now my pot belly is nicely exposed as an “is she preggers?” pot belly, instead of being comfortably hidden by my massive dangling jugs/melons/bazookas (and other offensive terms), but heck I’ve had two kids and I’m rather proud of the story it tells (actually it more tells a story of ginger cake addiction as my pot belly is same size as it was before I was ever preggers, if not a fair bit smaller, but it seems more romantic to say it’s due to kids not cake. Ahem.)
So now I need to share my experience of men with my boobs of both sizes. I started to develop aged about 8- by about 14 was when it really kicked off in terms of the name calling- I was frequently reduced to everything about me being about my breastsize and despite being a virgin I was OBVIOUSLY a SLAG.
Almost 16 and I got my first ever boyfriend, now he had an ex girlfriend, and at one point whilst trying to decide whether to dump me and go back to her- the charming specimen wrote a pro’s and cons list about both of us. I found this list. Top of my pro’s list was JUGS in capitals- she only had lowercase positives (including “white tights” WTF!?)- the CAPITAL LETTERS apparently meant that I was better to stick with. I was livid. He thought I’d be pleased. Funnily enough he turned out not to be the love of my life.
At college going out clubbing with my boobs was fun, I was a goth- I had to get a corset specially made as there wasn’t a hope in hell of one fitting a size 14 waist and size 22 breast size without either being obscene or look ridiculous. My cleavage could hold two beer bottles safely and comfortably which obviously made me the ideal friend to help get the round in. I embraced my boobs during this time- got my nipples pierced and rather enjoyed their traffic stopping qualities even if it did mean I got letched far on more than was fair by drunken idiots who would only talk to my breasts and not my face (to be fair non drunk idiots would do that too but they were slightly more subtle about it- they usually remembered to make eye contact occasionally too.)
But by the time I had got to university I had had enough of them, I had had enough of having to wear tents because nothing else would fit my boobs, and resultant “when is your baby due?” comments. My self esteem hit rock bottom (I went to university with a lot of skinny normal sized breasted girls which wasn’t case in my overweight hometown!) and I decided to go for the breast reduction. There was no question I would have got it done on the NHS given how out of proportion they were but the waiting list was three years and I was going insane- so my amazing parents agreed to pay for me to have the procedure done privately (as it happens by a man who had recently moved to our village- that was embarrasing!).
I had the operation over the summer and when I returned to university that October it really was like I was a different person. My confidence grew, and it was so odd to finally have men in bars talk to my face and not my chest (although as we have already established I’m a minger, I possibly was better at pulling when I had big boobs and not small ones- dam them actually having to look at my face! Arf!
this is a lie I look like Julia Roberts me). It was amazing to finally be able to wear clothes that fitted properly and not be so insecure about such a prominent part of my body. Sometimes I used to wonder if I had worked on my self esteem instead then maybe I wouldn’t have gone for the surgery- but ultimately my self esteem is in a zillion times better place than where it was before the surgery, and although I now have hideously scarred boobs (big thick keloid ones) and a wonky non functioning nip I am happier than I have ever been about my body- I mean my perky surgically enhanced boobs will never fail the pencil test again. (As an aside I learned there is a gold standard nipple size that surgeons tend to use- so my nips are the most visually pleasing in proportion size apparently- hah!). Post reduction I have to be honest and say I did get a minor obsession with my post belly as it was now the “prominent” thing but now I don’t really give a fuck about that either. Ultimately I now feel pretty happy in my own scarred wobbly bits skin and ultimately I don’t think I would have got here without the surgery and the love of a good man who finds me sexy exactly how I am.
Anyhow I am digressing a bit (you know how I love to talk about breasts after all.) but what I am trying to say is with hindsight I am amazed how obsessed men get with boobies of any size (I’m just going to point out that all the boy babies I know have been boob mad bottle refusers and incredibly hard to wean off the breast and then I am going to say Oedipus, and leave you to draw your own conclusions). I had a tougher time as a big breasted woman although I was definitely more successful with men (most probably because they assumed I was easy? Sigh.) and I much prefer being a smaller breasted one.
If only I had met LordCurd before I had the reduction then I could finish my rambly letter about the size of my breasts with a point proving anecdote to counter Mark Radcliffe’s “If the guy you’re with thinks you need different breasts, maybe you just need a different guy.” (as lets face it all he was saying there was you need to find a guy who likes small breasts not big ones” instead of anything useful like ultimately breast size is completely irrelevant in a decent loving relationship) but sadly I didn’t meet LordCurd when I had big boobs so I cannot share this- in fact I might wander off and ask him if he would still love me with massive hooters in a stereotyical neurotic body image obsessed womanly fashion.
P.S Dear heterosexual blokes- um I think the rambly point I was actually trying to make here is stop reducing women and their “attractiveneness” to the size of a part of their anatomy – I mean it’s not like we do it with your cocks is it? You just do that to yourselves. Fools.