When I was younger, I really wanted big boobs. I would look at my mom’s Victoria’s Secret catalogs and then stare down at my barely-there A-cups and sigh sadly. When I heard someone make a comment about my older cousin M’s impressive D-cups, I turned to my mom and declared that I wanted to “be just like M when I grow up.” On my first day of high school, I wore a padded bathing suit top under my shirt just so my boobs looked bigger.
It just wasn’t fair. My mom, grandma and older cousins were all well-endowed. Meanwhile, at 13-years-old, I was considering the pros and cons of breast enhancement surgery. Every night, I put my Catholic school education to good use by praying for my boobs to grow at least two sizes overnight. (Ugh, so embarrassing!)
It sounds weird, but I was so busy obsessing over the small size of my chest that I didn’t even notice when they actually did grow…until my high school boyfriend pointed it out. One night when we were on the phone, he asked what size bra I wore. I hesitated, then said, “I’m an A-cup”.
He snorted. “No, you’re not Jess. There’s no way.” The next day, I headed to Victoria’s Secret to get fitted. And it turns out he was right – I had grown into a large B-cup. I had no idea when it had happened, but I couldn’t have been more thrilled.
But by my freshmen year of college, I was wearing a 34 D, and I absolutely hated it. I was shy, awkward and quiet and I had no idea why I ever wanted breasts to begin with. I couldn’t stand the way people (mainly guys) stared at my boobs. I avoided push-up bras, v-neck t-shirts, anything strapless and bikinis like the plague. When anyone commented on how big my boobs were, I started blushing and couldn’t stop. I stared enviously at the way clothes draped over flatter girls and wished my breasts would shrink.
Until one day, when I was complaining to a more flat-chested friend about them. She looked at me like I was insane. “Are you kidding me? Do you know what I would do for your boobs?” She then proceeded to go into a long list of reasons why she hated her own A-cups. Looking for someone who would understand, I complained to my best friend, who was the same size as I was. Instead of agreeing with me, she shrugged and said, “I love my boobs. Big boobs are awesome.”
Slowly, I began to embrace my D-cups, and now I can say that 80 percent of the time, I wouldn’t change them one bit. It wasn’t about realizing that being flat-chested stinks, though. There are definitely some days when I wish my boobs were a few sizes smaller – like when I’m scared of flashing people when I’m swimming. Or when I try on a super cute dress, only to see that it fits perfectly everywhere but refuses to zip up over my chest. I can rarely find button-down shirts that actually button, baggy shirts (so comfy!) make me look a lot heavier than I am, and I will never not be annoyed by dudes blatantly staring at my boobs as I walk down a street or try to have a convo with them.
But all in all, I’ve come to realize that they’re pretty great. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you exactly what I like about my boobs. I like how they look in certain clothes (I’ve stopped avoiding v-necks, by the way), and when I’m feeling down about my bod, they give me a big confidence boost. Yeah, we have a total love/hate relationship going on, but mainly I appreciate them. I feel like my body wouldn’t be my body without them, you know?
How do you feel about your boobs? Did you hate them when they first started growing? Do you wish they were a different size? Can you relate to my clothing issues? Tell me in the comments!