Recently, a male friend mentioned, “If I had boobs, I’d show them off all the time”. My instant thought, as always when women whine about their small breasts and rave over mine is, “You’d wanna exchange them back after a week”.
I have a love-hate relationship with my breasts. The love part has only come to play in recent years; for most of my life I’ve hated them.They’re cumbersome and the slightest bit of cleavage seems to negate the presence of my brain. They’re obviously not massive double-D knockers, but they’re a C/D cup and on my frame, obviously pretty big. I was literally flat-chested till about 16 or 17 and then all of sudden, whoo, there they were. I’ve always been envious of women with a petite A/B cup and I know that sounds crazy to most people. The only ones who will understand are those who have the same love-hate relationship with their breasts and choose not to play it up as an accessory. Here’s why:
The Accidental Slutty Look
When small breasted women wear sports bras, it works the way it’s supposed to. When I use a sports bra, it ends becoming a push-up bra, leaving me in downward dog pose, with my boobs up to my chin. I’m also constantly adjusting the bottom of the bra because it literally slips under my breasts. I have to always be aware that even a regular bra and tank-top makes me look like I’m ready to hit the club on a Friday night. Racerbacks are also a nightmare. Even a turtleneck seems to emphasize it, so generally necklines aren’t the issue. Not everyone wants or, or should want to, look slutty all the time.
I’ve always been envious of women who can sleep flat on their stomach, lie propped up on their belly at picnics without their bosom falling out.
I do not typically wear necklaces. I buy them occasionally on a whim, forgetting that I will never use them. Unless it’s 1995 and they’re chokers, they will always fall into, what I call, Boob Valley and ends up looking smooshed in the cleavage.
I had a whole other blog post on the troubles of buying the perfect bra. As an in-between cup size, I’m basically the Goldilocks of bras, looking for one that’s just right. And the search for the perfect strapless bra continues. I once came home from an evening out and found the entire strapless bra under my breasts. Strapless bras on my breasts basically look like someone about to plummet to their death, clinging on for dear life. So, for the most part, I usually just go bra-less for nights out. Which leads me to the next problem…
Yes, this is ridiculously unglamorous but very realistic. Going bra-less is always risky (thankfully my breasts seem to be winning the fight against gravity for now) and the main drawback in a humid climate is the boob sweat that happens under the breasts. I once spent an entire house party in the kitchen, mopping it up. Not my finest hour but at least I looked presentable for photos. Nobody wants to see any form of sweat marks on clothing, and that goes for men too. Wear an inner t-shirt if you’re a sweat machine. Seriously.
As you get older and health realities set in, breast exams should be done as often as possible. Mammograms aren’t typically done until you’re 40 or are high-risk. It’s harder to detect lumps in bigger breasts, so get a professional to do it; a man squeezing your breasts during a make-out session isn’t the same.
My love for my breasts started to develop as I considered how I would feel if I had to give them up for medical reasons. All of a sudden I got fiercely protective of them, these glands that have given me such trouble and discomfort my entire adult life. Anyone who knows me, will know I very rarely play they up or deliberately show cleavage, I’m of the “a little goes a long way” philosophy. So, while I got them, I’m not quite going to flaunt them, but I ain’t gonna hide ’em either.