It all began when I was 12. I was in the tail end of 6th grade .I got up and got dressed in the ever so popular attire of the time, I huge hoodie sweatshirt, ginourmous jeans and a pair of sneaks. This is perhaps why what happened next was such a surprise. It was warm that day, so I decided to shed the XL sweatshirt I was wearing committing to the tank I had on underneath. 3rd period I used the restroom closest to the caf ( yeah, I abbreviate). I slowely lean over to get a drink.. when this random boy passes by and yells “Damn, You have some big ass titties”. Now the thing was that I had never notices. I had commited to uni-boob ala sports bra about 2 years prior and somehow never gave by budding chesticles a good once over. Well, I immediately run to the bathroom and check out the mirror. “Oh, Shit” there they were, staring right back at me. My D’s.
I was not prepared for this. The only female on my fathers side was his mother who passed before I was born. My mothers side is full of statuesque latin women. Just like my mother, all my female relatives were tall , slim, with bootie but no boobies. I loved this build. I was a ballerina… I would have been more that happy to have rocked an A cup, but God saw it a different way. I felt like a young Jedi.. given a power that I yet had not learned how to control.
By 7th grade I shed the baggie attire for a more feminine look. Very ala clueless, circa 1994. Although in retrospect, the knee high socks and miniskirts may have gotten me the wrong attention from the pedophile community in Queens.
At 15 I was introduced to the NYC club scene. For some reason I gravitated toward the gay boys. Gay boy’s love boobies, perhaps more than straight boys. While shopping for my club gear, my gaggle of boys would make sure that I was wearing nothing more than zebra bikini tops and latex pants. (Listen, it was the Mid 90’s… it was Limelight.. I was tame, trust me).. I went on like this for a few years. Boobies were still special at this point. They were like the key to the city!
By 18-19 I had toned it down dramatically. Girls all go through this stage, you have to learn the difference between sexy and trashy (although most people never get it) I swapped my sparkling bra tops and bustier for wife beaters and jeans. I have pretty much been this way for a decade now, but I digress, this is not the point of my blog.
Come the late 90’s fake boobie sales began to soar. You would go out amongst a sea of saline… and much like someone who just got a brand new car, they were out for display. It really had not bothered me though until relatively recently. I am all about people doing what makes them happy. I’ve been there and done that.
My beef is with how skewed societies perception has become. Example... when I met my boyfriend Frankie, he passed a comment that all his exes had been really flat and asked me what size I actually was. I told him. He forced me to show him the size of my bra because I did not look like a full D. I had to explain, a REAL d and a FAKE d are comparing apples and oranges. The size of a woman’s bust is measured at the base. A natural bust, especially on a thin girl that does not have much fatty overflow, tends to be bottom heavey. Fake boobies are the same size, 360 degrees around. Now the fact that men have a warped view of the female anatomy is not enough to annoy me. WHAT does is the fact that bra manufacturers do too!!!!!! I cannot shop at Victoria Secret. Their bras are made for fake boobie. Their D has a gaping gap on the top. The straps are ridiculously long to mold to the average fakie whose rack hard boobies stick out and do not move. I am now forced to go to a European bra boutique… spend at least $100 a bra because the Europeans have not fallen victim to this fucked up perception of the female form.
I am ANGRY!
I would like to be able to buy cheap bra’s god damn it!
Consider this a re-education.. And know, I am on a quest to get REAL BOOBIES the respect they deserve!