Making Peace With My Big Boobs
I thought that with cleavage came power. But as my cleavage amassed, I found the opposite to be true. My ample cups seemed to hint at certain unpleasant possibilities. Like, maybe I was dumb. Maybe I was slutty. Maybe I liked it when people gawked at my breasts, and when the guy driving that van rolled down the window to say “nice tits, love” as I walked past in my school uniform.
That’s from Chloe Pantazi who wrote a piece for Salon entitled, “My boobs, my burden.”
Why would a woman endowed with big boobs ever need to make peace with them? Many are surely pleased as punch. And yet I’ve come across a few essays that talk of struggle. Maybe their stories can help others who are grappling with the same issue. And maybe the smaller-busted can see that the grass isn’t always greener.
For instance, Chloe had a friend, Leah, who became so desperate that she got a breast reduction. As Chloe describes it:
Having large breasts “became too stressful,” (Leah) said. “I couldn’t buy clothes that fit; I couldn’t buy a bathing suit; I got attention that I didn’t want.” Some of that attention came from high school boys. One of them, asked by Leah’s friend why he liked her, said, “I don’t know, she’s got big tits.” But unwelcome attention came from women, too, who “just felt like they could comment about it,” she said.
… Before her reduction, she felt that her breasts were her “defining feature.” Now, she says, “they look like a regular part of me.
Or “The Preppy Panda” began wearing a bra by third grade:
It was terrible. Grown men were looking down my shirt when I was 11 years old. I was a C cup by sixth grade and a DD by the time I entered high school. The girls in the locker room, with their little boobs and cute bras, filled me with envy.
I entered adulthood with the understanding that my chest was abnormally, unattractively, and disfunctionally large.
Diahann Reyes @ Stories From the Belly blamed her breasts for adding weight to her body: “I so wanted to be skinny, not curvy.”
When you have larger breasts, people — both known and unknown — think they can comment. Her boy cousins mercilessly teased her as the “Boobsie Queen.” And in middle school, a boy called out, “Watch those boobs bounce!”
I stopped, then slowed my pace to a walk—unsure whether I’d done something to elicit this attention and feeling like it was in part my chest’s fault.
Then there are the sporadic “feel-ups” that happen anywhere, like a video arcade where a guy may get too close, brushing a hand against her chest. Or a doctor whose eyes graze her body when a nurse momentarily walks out.
Boys thought she was “experienced” even though she’d never been kissed.
My date, whom I’d asked to a Sadie Hawkins Dance, stayed a polite arm’s length away from me all night, later explaining, “Girls like you probably want more than I’m ready to give.” I’d just been hoping that maybe he would hold my hand.
As women age big breasts lose their “perkiness” and remarks shift, she says: “Ever thought of a breast lift?” Or, “You must be wearing a push-up bra!”
Oh yeah, you can fill out a sweater like it’s nobody’s business, and you certainly get male eyes on you, but…
As their breasts grew, they “exploded stretch marks over bean-bag boobs that hurt if you even looked at them.” Your back hurts. It’s hard to exercise. And then there are posture issues.
And it can be hard to feel sexy when your boobs are so heavy that they don’t look that great without a bra:
Celebrities and porn stars post-plastic surgery have created the illusion that big boobs are perfectly round and stand up on their own. Gravity doesn’t exist and nipples are perfectly even. Not true. Even at a young age, the giant girls sag from the sheer weight and flip-flop about in pretty much the least sexy way possible.
Or, when guys act interested the well-endowed wonder if they like them, or just their chests.
But less endowed girls don’t know that and glare daggers or slut-shame or dumb-shame girls with bigger chests.
Katie and Kirstie have this advice for the envious:
So, the next time you think us ladies who have been blessed (or cursed) with G-cup breasts need to realize how lucky we are, remember that we are just as insecure with ourselves as women who only need a camisole. We carry our own (very heavy) insecurities every day, too.
Making peace with big boobs
So how do the well-endowed make peace with their bodies? Katie and Kirstie use humor.
You either hide behind giant clothing and pretend your breasts aren’t the first thing anyone sees, or you learn to break the ice, make the first joke and just acknowledge the elephant(s) in the room. Because if you don’t, someone else will.
The Preppy Panda found peace when she realized a G cup doesn’t look so different from a C. Her blog links to a site that asks you to guess the cup sizes of various women in bras. It’s actually hard to guess. Now she says,
My boobs look fine! They don’t look like they are consuming me. They don’t look pornographic. They don’t make me look middle-aged. Most of what I have spent my life believing about them wasn’t even true.
So what had me tricked? Well, two things. The first is that I developed at an age when other girls either had no boobs or small boobs so I began to define them as being, “way bigger than everyone else’s.” However, as a full grown woman with full grown peers, everyone else has really began to catch up to me.
Diahann Reyes chose to sit in front of a mirror and really see her breasts. And she finally began to see them as just “herself.” Among her thoughts and observations:
Is that a mole right there? I wonder if my boobs resemble my grandmother’s? Thank goodness they are healthy! I think I love them.
It was as if by seeing them directly, rather than through the filter of someone else’s gaze or perception, I was able to have my own experience of my boobs that was outside the construct of objectification that they had been imprisoned in for so long.
These are my breasts—they are not sex objects that happen to be attached to my body. They are part of my body, part of me.
Wise advice for us all.
Coming soon: Making Peace With My Small Boobs
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Posted on May 27, 2015, in body image, objectification, psychology, sex and sexuality, women and tagged big boobs, body image, breasts, objectification, psychology, sexuality, women. Bookmark the permalink. 56 Comments.