By Alex L.
Breasts, boobs, boobies, titties, tits, juggs, ta-ta’s, bazongas, the twins, the girls, or whatever else you want to call them lets face it, men love them, women on the other hand have a love/hate relationship with them. Why wouldn’t we? We’re all blessed with different shapes and sizes and cursed with different shapes and sizes, hence the love hate relationship.
I mean what’s not to love about breasts? If you have a nice pair, they look good in your favorite blouse, you can catch a good Victoria’s Secret sale, (three bras for $25, come on how great is that?) or if you have perky boobs you can wear those revealing tank tops without a bra! Personally, I can’t relate to any of those scenarios. I could never walk out the house with only a tank top, shop at Victoria’s Secret for a nice lacy bra, and anytime I wear a blouse it includes safety pins and double sided tape. I don’t mind being a busty girl, but I wear a size 38 G bra! Yes I said G, (honestly I think one is an F and the other a G but whatever.) I don’t have the privilege to buy bras with the fancy designs, frilly lace, or bright, vibrant colors. Nope, just black or white, thick lace and lycra and those four hooks in the back just to make sure the girls stay in place. The shoulder straps dig into my shoulders leaving imprints and bruises because my boobs are so heavy. I pay $60 or more just so my bras fit me properly despite how uncomfortable they are. Gravity does not exist with the two planets that sit on my chest. They’re not perky, instead when I’m not strapped down in my brassiere, they’re constantly in the way. To make a long story short I HATE MY BREASTS!
My breasts are the vain of my existence! Ok, I’m exaggerating a little, but I have a strong dislike with my bouncing buddies. I think my disdain stems from Elementary school. (Everyone has a “past.”) All my girlfriends were flat as boards, but me I was wearing training bras in third grade and just two years later I started my period. All the womanly changes were happening to me while I was still a child. But those breasts of mine made it obvious to everyone that physically, I wasn’t a little girl anymore despite how young I acted, furthermore I hated that teenaged boys and men were noticing that womanly change. From nine to 13 years old, I went from an A cup to a full DD! It was like my upper body transformed from little girl to grown woman; I felt awkward, embarrassed, uncomfortable, and very self conscious. I hated changing in gym glass or at slumber parties because I knew my friends would gawk at me, hell, they stared at me when I had my shirt on, I could only imagine if they saw what was underneath! I didn’t even look at my breast in a mirror until I was 16, up until then I just pretended that they weren’t there even though they were a constant reminder.
Now, two months shy of 22, I’m still self conscious about my bosoms. I’ve tried to think positive about my breasts, you know find the good in them, to make me like them more, with all that positive thinking I’ve come up with nothing. I simply don’t like them, I don’t like the shape of them, I don’t like my cup size, it bothers me that I have to spend so much money on bras, I hate that my bras are uncomfortable, I hate that the first things men notice about me are my big breasts, but most of all, I hate that my breasts make me hate them the way that I do. (sighs.) Sure, there is a solution out there for me. Surgery. Breast reduction surgery ($5,000- $7,000.) I’ve considered it, I’m still considering it, but I’ve also considered what if I loathe my breast even more after I get surgery? I’d have a bigger problem than what I have now. I’d hate if that were happen, so with that in mind my breasts really aren’t that bad the way they are now. Bottom line, if there’s a chance that surgical augmentation can make my breasts worse in anyway, that’s a chance I’m not willing to take.
So regardless of what your relationship is like with your body, whether or not you dislike your breasts like I do, or any other body part for that matter, its okay, we all do. We’re not perfect, and we can’t solve all our physical problems by going under the knife because even if one problem is fixed, there will be some other flaw that will tweak your nerves and that’s okay too. But remember you’re imperfections make the perfect you. That was cheesy but its true. =)
