October 20, 2006 - 12:37 a.m.
<Breasts
>
I just finished watching a documentary about women's chests, aptly named "Breasts." They interviewed a bunch of topless women about their breasts. It was pretty shocking, there was a morbidly obese woman whose boobs kind of wrapped around to meld into her back fat. There was a woman with A size breasts who was afraid men found her sexy because they could indulge their prepubescent fantasies. There were strippers and mothers and daughters and feminists. There was this one stripper, who I thought was so unbelievably pretty when they were just shooting her face. she had pale skin (paler than mine, if that's even possible!), and blond hair - but she had a hint of freckles and wore deep red lipstick and she looked amazing. She was my age (20). She was married and already had a son, and claimed that the pregnancy ruined her breasts and forced her into surgery. Then they panned out and you saw her breasts. She was so proud of them, and talked about how her husband loves them, and she loves them, and all of her customers love them. But to me, they looked saggy and incredibly veiny and incredibly unattractive. But I was still happy about that, though, that she was so happy with them. Most of the women were happy with their breasts, even when they were lopsided or saggy or nonexistant.
There was an older woman who had had a double masectomy. She was close to tears as she talked about how her husband assured her that her breasts weren't important, but as soon as she had her surgery there was a drastic drop in their sexual relations. And later, when she had another long-term relationship after her husband died, she felt the same distance. How horrible. I know that your life is far more important than your breasts, but I think I would honestly be depressed if I had to lose mine. And to feel so broken away from the man you were in love with would be heartbreaking in and of itself.
Which brings me to my own opinion about breasts. Honestly, I love mine. I really do. I'm lucky in that. My only beef with them is that they are large enough that they will inevitably be saggy, and horribly so. But right now, I love them. I remember very little about my opinion of my breasts until about a year ago. I remember when I was first getting them, and my cousin Julie and I sat in bed one night talking about how weird it was to feel the little lump in your chest - and how that assured me that I wasn't a freak. I remember the first "training bra" I had, or rather my first two. I had an off white and a white one of the same style, and I loved them. They were soft and silky and, dare I say, sexy. I don't know how old I was when I got them. 11? 12? But I loved how I looked in them. In high school guys told me I had big breasts but I didn't think a lot of it, and I wore blouses to school that were too big because otherwise it pulled at the chest. I didn't realize they were too big, or didn't care. But even now, I pull them out sometimes hoping to match them to an outfit I have, and I feel like I'm swimming in them.
I don't remember much else, except freshman year of college I was excited to find that I fit into a C cup. I don't really know how I ever decided on a bra size. I think in high school I must've bought one, it kind of fit, and I stuck with that size ever since. I don't remember ever really thinking about it. But now with my new bra-fitting knowledge, I realize I should've been wearing at least a D cup. My bras from high school had 36 bands. I should've been wearing a 32, if not a 30 at that point. After I bought a C cup and it fit freshman year, I kept wearing a 36C until one day very randomly earlier this year I suddenly realized that none of my bras fit. I wasn't comfortable. I tried to measure myself per the instructions I found online, but they recommended I wear a 32DDD. Surely that wasn't right? I skipped class, went to Target, bought a 34D and was amazed at how comfortable I was. Still, I wasn't comfortable enough and one day I was trying on a low-cut dress and my mom remarked that my boobs were pushed together funny, maybe I was wearing the wrong size bra. We got a bra fitting the very next day, both of us, and the lady told me I was a 34DD. I cried in the dressing room and bought two ugly grandma bras and felt like my body was out of control. I spent a lot of money stocking up on any 34DD bra I could find that was remotely attractive, only to discover after a while that I still wasn't comfortable. I was incredibly frustrated, lamented to my mom several times, and finally she brought me to a lingerie boutique in Cincinnati, where I discovered that I'm a 32DDD/32F. With my recent bra-buying experiences, I think I could pull off a 30G. However, I am not ready to admit that to myself so I kind of keep that thought at bay. 32Fs are slightly too loose around the band, and a 30 band would be slightly too tight. I'm okay.
This year has actually been very emotional for me regarding my breasts. I've felt alternating feelings of amazement, horror, frustration, admiration, and appreciation for my breasts. I've become so more aware of them. I have the hardest time finding shirts, since my chest is so big and my waist is so small. I can't buy dresses because my chest, waist, and hips can be wildly different - the difference between a size 2 dress and a size 10. It's hard to find a top that doesn't immediately make me look slutty. I'm hyper sensitive to cleavage. It's incredibly frustrating to spend hours shopping for a shirt without reaping any benefits. I stalk bras on ebay waiting for a great deal, which for me is about $60 right now. I know they're not saggy at all, but I still obsessively look every day and wonder what it will be like when they are. I wear a bra to bed (one of my looser old 34DDs, for a little bit more freedom while tossing around in bed). It's uncomfortable to feel the weight of them unsupported by anything. I can't go braless in anything, because it's so uncomfortable not to have any help holding them up.
Still, through it all, I do love them. They're me. I've thought a few times about breast reduction - I've never thought seriously, but just speculating. I didn't think about it until my mom started telling me why I should wait until I've had kids to do that. That's when it even occurred to me that I could even think about it.
Recently I've been thinking that maybe I would like to own a bra boutique when I'm older. I've become so fascinated by everything that's out there, while on my little boob-appreciation journey. I see girl's bras through their shirts all the time and I notice they're wearing the wrong size and I really do want to walk up and help them. Sometimes I see bands so high up women's backs that it almost hurts me to look at them for all the support these women aren't getting. I didn't realize how uncomfortable I was, until I found what fits me.
I remember the first time I really started to love them. It was a revolutionary day. I was really stressed out around finals time in this spring semester, so my mom got me a massage. I had been feeling awful about my body, too, because this was around the time of my breast revelation and it was also the time I was busting out my old spring/summer clothes, only to realize that I didn't fit in them anymore.
That massage was the best sensation of my life. After the massage, the masseuse left the room and told me to come up when I was ready. I slowly got up and went into the bathroom, where my clothes were. There were hot, damp towels waiting for me to wipe the oils off of my body. All the lights were dimmed and in this bathroom was just a candle. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself. I really looked. And suddenly, I couldn't get my fill of looking. All of the sudden, I saw myself as really, truly beautiful. I suddenly realized that what I had was a woman's body. My body. And I loved it.
Also, I know this sounds really cheesy. But seriously? This past year has been a huge year for me as far as my body and my breasts are concerned. I'm loving it.
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