Boobs. Breasts. Knockers. Tits. Big ones. Small ones. Some
as big as your head. Boobs of two different sizes. Boobs that are saggy. Boobs
that made of silicone. No matter what you call them or what they look like, the
fact is over 50% of the population has a pair, if you include moobs into the equation.
They feed our children and they are part of what makes us women. It’s an area
of the body that is poked, prodded, ogled at and dreamed about by every straight,
horny teenage boy as well as most horny adult men. They are a big part of our
lives and so this week, I am devoting a whole post to the everyday practicalities
of carrying around a pair of boobs all the god-given day.
It’s pretty safe to say, in the grand scale of things, I
have quite sizeable boobs. As my mum always said, I pushed to the front of the
boob queue and selfishly stole it all for myself (as a disclaimer, I am in no way bragging
about this fact, as I’m sure you’ll come to quickly realise). Now, being well
endowed in the chest department is both a blessing and a curse. There are definitely
things I can’t complain about, from getting served quickly in bars to having a
handy storage area for when I don’t have pockets or a bag. I can, quite
comically, go hands free with drinks and they serve as a great place to prop my
laptop when watching TV in bed. Thanks to these puppies I give excellent hugs
(or so I’ve been told) and yeah, I’m not going to lie, when the moment requires
it, having effortless cleavage is a terrific pulling tool.
But there are also a great many things about having big
boobs that are less than ideal. For example, finding nice clothes that fit well
in all the right places is a nightmare. The fashion industry does a very good
job of forgetting that women’s boobs come in all different sizes, meaning
therefore that I can almost never find shirts that fit, party dresses that don’t
show nearly my whole bra or bikinis that will offer any support at the beach.
Unless you are shopping in somewhere like Marks and Spencer (what a hero) or
Debenhams, you can forget about finding pretty, affordable and supportive bras
in anything above a D cup. There are whole dedicated high-street underwear
retailers that don’t sell bras for my size. Not great.
And there are certain clothes that are just not an option.
Outfits that look effortless and elegant on smaller-chested, slender women can
end up looking completely slutty and inappropriate on anyone with a larger than
average bust. Backless dresses are a no-go, as there is very little chance I’m
going without a bra or one of those awful stick-on contraptions. And you can
forget about polo neck jumpers, which will make you look like you are on the
verge of falling over forwards at all times.
Sports are also a problem. Finding the right sports bra to
fit your shape and offer the right amount of support is a marathon in itself,
but no matter how steel-reinforced your bra is, they are still going to jiggle
and inevitably going to hurt a little and cause back pain. You sometimes find
yourself wrapping your arms around yourself like a hug as an extra makeshift
bra to stop them from bouncing. There are moves in yoga and Pilates when you
are lying on your front and the instructor asks you to lift your chest off the
floor. The only way this would be possible is if I had the most flexible spine
in the world, which I do not. They also get extremely sweaty and gross and
which can even cause them to become infected. Dream about that one, lads.
My last gripe is that there are those men who stare when it
really is inappropriate to do so. For the most part, I’m pretty used to it and
to be honest I don’t really mind, but there have been times in my life when
this has made me feel really rather uncomfortable. For example, I once had a
meeting at work with a new client, who I was informed at a much later date had
been openly ogling my boobs for the entire time he was there. Luckily, my boss
had a massive go at the guy and let him know that he was being unacceptable. I
hadn’t noticed at the time and she only told me this when I left that agency,
which I’m really thankful for as it meant that I was able to work with him and
not feel awkward, but still thinking about that now makes me feel a little
queasy. You would think working in an industry mostly filled with women and gay
men may protect you from this kind of misogynistic behaviour, but evidently
not.
So in conclusion, I can honestly say that having boobs is
not as easy as it looks. They have their pros and their cons and on balance, if
I could give away a couple of cups sizes, I totally would. I’m sure when I have
babies, I will change my mind and will relish in the ample supply of free baby
food but for now, I will continue to complain loudly in clothes shops and on
the treadmill. And I don’t care if that means making a tit out of myself.
This post is dedicated to a fantastic woman who I used to
work with who I discovered this week has breast cancer. I want her to know that
I am rooting for her and that I have every faith that if anyone can kick cancer’s
arse, she can.
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