I am sorry if I offend anyone with the following post, but it is something close to my heart and I need to get it off my chest – literally.
I am going to talk about bust size. My bust size.
I have put that sentence in bold italics so anyone who may find themselves upset about talk of large bras and boob pain can leave right now . . .
I am top heavy. Always have been.
Even in my slimmer pre-children days I was in a C cup, which for any guys out there who don’t know, it’s comfortably a large handful.
Now I am carrying extra weight, I am very top heavy.
I have gone up to an E cup. I flirted with D, then on to DD, then stopping off at the over-shoulder-boulder-holder E.
Of course, my husband thinks this is “bloody great. That is what cleavage is supposed to be like”.
But I HATE it.
“Think of all those women who pay to have a big bust,” he reasons.
“But they haven’t the first idea of how it feels and I bet you they’re bloody miserable after it’s done,” I reply.
First of all, having a larger bust means I look heavier than I actually am.
It also makes clothes buying a nightmare. How many shirts have I tried on that fit great but the buttons are straining to meet over my bra?
Dresses are a no no unless I want to look like I’m on the game.
Then there is the fact that I feel like they are my face. When I used to work in a newsroom I had to remind a couple of guys that my eyes were in fact slightly north of where they were looking.
And finally, and most importantly here, they bloody hurt when I get physical. No, not THAT physical, I’m talking about when I’m running or jumping or taking up a slight jog (which is sort of why I took up walking instead).
Can you imagine what a nightmare jogging has become? I have to wear two sports bras to keep these babies under control.
I went through a stage thinking it must just be me. ‘Bloody hell’, everyone is thinking, ‘if that’s all you’ve got to moan about then I’d much rather be in your shoes’.
But then a good friend of mine confessed she feels exactly the same and I felt almost vindicated.
I know, I know, it’s all funny and you’re all going to think of jokes that use the words ‘uplifting’ but for me it has become a motivating factor.
Sure I want to lose weight for my health and my kids and my vanity. But do you know what? I want to reduce the size of my bust to pre-baby size. Manageable size. A size that will fit back into the rather gorgeous underwear husband used to buy for me (which he doesn’t now because it’s usually met with a snort and a ’you don’t honestly think I’ll fit in there do you?’)
Weight gain and loss, coupled with babies and breastfeeding can play havoc with a girl’s boobage, so I know I am very lucky to have maintained a pair that don’t need to be tucked into my waistband or can sweep the carpet.
I suppose it’s the same for all of us – men or women – we don’t just want to look good, we want to feel good too.
Well, I don’t feel good with a pair of Es right under my nose. I want my little Cs back.
(I originally wrote this post on a fitness blog I used to contribute to but it’s as relevant today as it’s always been!)