by AliD (Thu Sep 10, 2009)
I am a work in
progress. I read my self-help books, and go to my Women's Group every week. I
look in the mirror and do my best to focus on the ‘good things.' I embrace my
‘new shape'....
...and assure myself that in my next life I will
come back as a Brazilian model with gorgeous skin, a natural ability to sing
and an ample bust. Whatever gets you through the day, you know?
Ah yes, the much
discussed, and famous female body bits: the bust, boobs, fun bags, bosoms,
dirty pillows (my least favorite, I always think of a pillow with those
yellowing drool marks on them) and whatever else we humans come up with to name
and rename the simple BREASTS.
I am one of the
many small-chested women that walk the planet. Some of you may understand me
completely when I complain about how depressingly small my breasts are, but you
will be ever so thankful that jogging does not involve having two black eyes
from bouncing ta-ta's (oh forgot about that one).
Some large-chested
women, like one of my dearest friends, would give anything to have smaller
breasts. I offer graciously to take hers off her hands (or her chest).
Yes my breasts
have done their service. They fed my three children very adequately, though now
I have nipples that forever look down at my feet in the sort of shameful way a
naughty schoolgirl does when caught cheating on a test.
I've attempted to
‘pin' them up again, lifting them up as I put on my bra so they look to the
heavens, and hoping they might remember that they actually liked the view when
they were erect. But to no avail.
I even ordered
some breast growth pills online once. The testimonials were amazing, and
probably all lies, but, seeing as
they were herbal I thought, ‘let's give them a go.'
There were a few
to choose from. Endow Plus, Instant Bust, Bustful, Ameribreast (not only bigger
boobs but when pressed they played 'The Star-Spangled Banner') or Green Bush
Herbal - that's all I needed, small boobs and
a green bush.
So my course of ‘Bust Diva' pills arrived in a discreet brown
paper package, as if it was some dirty porn mag, and I hid the pill packet in my closet, like it was... dirty porn.
And because they
were so well hidden I forgot most days to take them, so not surprisingly they
didn't work.
I have also bought
so many push up bras that I've lost count. I've wrangled the small flesh into
a too-small push up bra (thinking, ‘well if I go smaller it will be tighter so
therefore more push').
No, doesn't work
like that, it just causes the bra to run for the neckline every time you raise
an arm.
I did get to a ‘C
cup' with my first pregnancy. It was the first time my breasts ever met. An
actual cleavage - hoorah! They really liked each other too. Sadly they soon
lived separate lives and have done so ever since.
When I took my
teenage daughter to be properly fitted for a bra, she measured up as a 32 D. She
was shocked. I had to take a seat in the changing room and nearly wept. Interestingly
the lady helping us with the fit was most
impressed by her size and when I said I've been a AA all my life, she actually
looked sad and said ‘I'm sorry.'
I don't have
terminal bloody cancer, just small boobs.
The final insult
came when I wandered into Victoria's Secret - a store I love. They have a
beautiful line of lingerie called ‘Angels.'
I found a bra that
I really liked and searched for the right size. None to be found. I asked one
of the shop assistants if she could get me a AA size bra in that particular
style. She answered, ‘Oh we don't make bras in that small size.'
Right.
So God has apparently
decreed that even Angels have big boobs.
