It doesn’t really need to be said more than this; I hate my chest. It’s too big for my frame. I’ll just lay it out for you:
I’m 5’5 and weigh, on a good day, 110 (but right now I’m more at 1o8. We call it the Diet of Poverty… I’m too broke to go buy food. Don’t laugh.).
This puts me at the bottom end of healthy on the BMI scale. I know this, and while it’s not something I particularly pride myself in, I’m not ashamed by it either.
My cup size tips the scales at a DD/E… depending on the bra. They weigh about seven pounds on their own.
So, in theory, I have an extra seven pounds of weight bearing down on my back. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?
It makes me wonder… why do people get implants? I understand the aesthetic purposes, I suppose. I mean, if your frame is built where you can support that extra weight (and it doesn’t look ridiculous, a la Shauna Sand kind of style) and have it look natural? Go for it. But me? I get asked whether my boobs are fake or not all the time.
Which leads me to this question: who the fuck comes up off the street and just arbitrarily asks that question? It’s not guys, either, it’s always girls. Always. To me, it’s akin to walking up to a random pregnant chick and rubbing her belly, only worse. Maybe not as physically invasive, but surely a bit ruder.
Either way, I’m learning to embrace my boobaliciousness.
Step One: Good Bras. OMG Good bras. Seriously… it makes a world of difference. My new favorite brand is Simone Perele (despite the fact that I do have to wear an E in their styles), because they’re cute, frilly and still utilitarian. Same for Huit.
Step Two: Date someone who likes boobs. Thanks, C.
Step Three: Find people who can relate.