I have naturally large boobs (now there's an opening sentence for you!). They're bloody huge actually. I sometimes forget just how big they are and it still shocks me when I catch sight of them at a funny angle in the mirror, or see a photograph of myself where it looks as if my breasts are trying to escape from my body to take over the world. It is definitely one of the first things people notice about me however much they try to tell me 'Oh no, fair maiden, t'was your dazzling eyes that first mine eye did catch.' Right, yes, and the fact that your eyes didn't in fact make contact with mine is beside the point I imagine!? Shuffle along now.
I look on with envy at all those women who seem to gloatingly float passed me (hiss to you all!) with no bra on in a floral number in the summer breeze. If I even attempt to do anything minus a bra (and a bravissimo bra at that, none of this La Senza crap - Sorry, La Senza, I want to love you but your bras are just not big enough. Fact) I end up having to hold my boobs with one hand (and arm) while the other hand takes on the roll of two. In short, they simply get in the way. Sexy it is not, no matter how hard I try to hold them in a dainty and delicate manner. Big breasts and delicacy do not go hand in hand. Literally. Saying all this, I wouldn't change my boobies for anything. Not love nor money. They are part of who I am and have been with me for so long now that I can't even begin to imagine myself without them. You'd notice my chubby belly a lot sooner for one thing and then I would have to start working out and that will never do. No, I have grown to love my assets for better, for worse and in spite of all those perverse looks I get because of them. And this brings me to the reason for this post in the first place; all those perverse comments that befall any girl with a larger than your average cup size. I'm not sure why they seem to come as a partnership but they do (Do you think God sits up there and says 'Right, so that's the pair of massive boobs with the inappropriate comments for....er...Josephine. Lunch now, yes.' ...hmmmm?).
I have had large breasts for over 16 years now, they came to me at the age of 11 and they simply refused to stop growing. Ever! They did not get bigger or smaller depending on my weight, they simply got bigger. Full stop. The End. I still, on occasion, wake up and think 'Hang on a tick tock, were they really this big when I went to bed?' However, I do love them and have even come to love the comments they receive. Not because I adore the dirty glances they attract, the kind that linger that bit too long and cease the moment just before that first morsel of saliva escapes that dirty mouth, from men old enough to be my Grandfather (Dr Karl's Stepfather come on down). Nor do the "LOOOVE, Your Boobs Are Like Well Big!" turn me on. No, I love the comments because they make such magnificent stories for my friends (my flatmate has even discussed the remarks my boobs receive at the dinner table with his family - perplexed, so was I) and surely that is what this life is all about, amusing your friends by any means possible. My stories have kept my friends chuckling for years now. Well done, girls.
However, I once overheard a girl on a train telling her friend of the utter devastation she felt after receiving a gem of a comment from some guy and how with every new comment/insult she received her confidence was steadily being demolished. It was heart breaking. I wanted to reach out to this girl, hug her and tell her that she would be OK, that the only reason people make such comments are because they either wish they had her wonderful boobs or they wish they could touch (lick/kiss/nibble/suck...yes men of the world, you are that transparent) them, but the girl in question couldn't have been more than 15 and I thought she may press charges if I tried to hug her. When you're 15 someone who is 26 is like, so totally ancient, riiiiight! Instead I have decided to share with you some of my favourite shitting-hell-you-have-large-boobs stories that the people of Britain (and beyond) have thrown mine way, so you that can laugh, gasp at the audacity of others and know that you are most definitely not alone.
The first I will share with you happened about a month ago when The Blonde One and I were home and went for a meal on the sunny south coast. As I was reaching my final destination with The Blonde One strolling toward me, I walk passed what I thought was a harmless bunch of lads. One of these said lads eyed me up and down (mainly the girls, naturally), nodded furiously and then as casually as ordering a sneaky McDonalds informed me that 'Yeah, I'd do you'. I was so perplexed I apparently began to blink uncontrollably. In hindsight I should have called his bluff and said 'As luck would have it, I'd do you too. Let's drop these losers as I hear there's the most darling alley way at the top of this hill where we can hop on the good foot and do the bad thing'. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, don't you think? That same evening, when crossing a group of teenage party goers on the steps of an unnameable pub, a girl as bold as brass pointed to my chest with her thumb, turned around to face her friends and said 'Take A Look At Those'. Again, all I could do was blink in astonishment where I could have said 'Oh yes, please do take a look. It's my life's ambition to set the world record in 'strangers staring at my chest' you know. Perhaps you'd like a photo with them for the Grandkids?'. Honestly, had the girl never heard of subtlety?
However, there have been those rare occasions when a witty and brilliant comeback has hit me at the perfect time and believe me, it felt good! A chap in a club once did a 'comedy' (minus the comedy element, alas) double take before telling me that 'I like big boobs but I wouldn't even know where to start with those', at which point I crooked my head, sighed and simply said 'Aww, and that doesn't surprise me you wee scamp! One day you'll figure it out. Have faith!' and strolled away with a smile that reached from here to the coast of overseas. I still remember his friends howls of laughter. Bazinga! And I was only 19. Gutsy! And of course there was the classic 'You don't see boobs that size everyday'. My reply being 'Well, I do. Obviously'.
But before you think 'oh, you don't know what it's like to have truly horrid comments thrust upon you' let me tell you I do. I remember so clearly a time when some nasty waste of a human existence would not stop following me around a club, inappropriately touching me although I asked him several times to stop, before practically spitting in my face that 'You shouldn't have big tits if you aint going to be a slut, you fucking prick tease bitch!' and no, I wasn't the type of girl to wear ridiculously low tops that stopped just short of my nipples. It was a scary experience, it felt horrid, it truly upset me and it made me want to hide away. But then I thought how dare he, how dare one lousy excuse for a man stop me from stepping out of my house in anything other than a baggy hoody. Shame on you, you utter Twunt (I always thought he'd make a wonderful addition to The Jeremy Kyle Show). However, he has to live with himself where as I have never had to look at that face again. I believe that's what you call 'win win'.
I could go on (and on, and on, AND on) but I think you get my point. This is just my way of telling all big breasted women out there that you are The Shit, I love you all and everyone wants a Bravissimo bra anyway, we're just the lucky few who actually get to wear them. For any young girl who is thinking that no man will ever look past your breasts and onto your personality, they will. It may take them a few minutes, but they will get there. And who cares if your breasts were the first thing that caught their eye, a nice pair of legs will do the same to a leg man and no one ever worriedly thought 'Oh, I think he just likes me for my legs'. You may in time even meet with a bum man that thinks you are The Shizzle and your marvellous boobs are just a delightfully squeezey bonus. It's a shame my bum man turned out to be slightly racist, he was doing so well before then...
Now I think I need to buy myself a new well fitting, beautifully laced bra to dance around my room in and I suggest you do the same. And never be ashamed of those wonderful boobs of yours again...
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