Disclaimer: Contains a lot of silly wordplay concerning breasts while I attempt to make light of a subject that has been truly anguishing. To read a serious and profoundly potent post on the same subject, please go to this amazing writer’s blog right here.
“Well, HELLO DOLLY!” (You know the tune?)
When I was 15, a boy inquired about going to the junior prom, never once taking his eyes off my enormous bosoms. I told him, “Oh yes, they’d be delighted to go.” His baby blues widened as I continued, “They’ll be ready by 7 pm, but you need to return them safely back home and attached firmly to my torso by midnight.” His eyes grew bigger than any saucers my breasts could ever fit into. “Or else….” I hesitated for dramatic effect, “they’ll turn into pumpkins!” I couldn’t resist. His eyes exploded.
After that incident, boys continued to never look into my eyes while speaking to me, (but rather preferred to fix their stare a good 10 inches below) which prompted me to think about gluing those craft store Googly Eyes onto my blouse in strategic spots.
Hey listen . . . . . . .
“Where’s your wheelbarrow?”
“Your cup runneth over!”
“Are melons in season?”
“Over the Shoulder Boulder Holder!”
There isn’t a boob joke or cat-call I haven’t heard before. In the past few months, this humor blog has helped me lighten up with heavier issues than my breasts, so I’m going to give it a shot today – – being that I’ve had a breasted vested interest in the subject matter.
When you’re just 13 years-old and already making Dolly Parton look inadequate, you quickly learn that intelligent people who say, “Your bra size doesn’t matter, only brain size matters,” are just plain . . . Stupid. First of all, if you’re big busted, you WILL be perceived as a bimbo, regardless of your IQ. Don’t believe me? Try these 10 easy steps:
1. Fill two plastic bags with granulated sugar, each weighing 5.5 lbs and place them in your shirt (Yes, that was EACH. Check it out here .)
2. Go out tonight.
3. Oh, but first go bra shopping.
4. Bypass all the sweet, delicate, lacy little bralettes you see in the front of the store.
5. March up to a saleswoman and tell her you would like to (use the term “like to” loosely) try on a steel reinforced Chest of Armour in a size 38 Double . . . and then whisper the cup size.
6. Watch other women in the store turn to “envy” you. Slap forehead and say, “Darn! I just knew I shoulda ordered them in a smaller size when I was in that uterus.”
7. Then try explaining to these other women about a) backaches b) shoulder pain c) not being able to sleep comfortably d) or exercise, e) combating extreme male crudeness f) your fear that someone will set a vase of flowers on your boobs, mistaking them for a fireplace mantle shelf. And g) well, “G” is your cup size.
8. Be prepared for these other women to shake their heads at your complete ungratefulness and proceed to bemoan the horrors of being a size A cup.
9. Nod politely and agree that yes, the grass is always greener. Or the bras are always better, on the other chest.
10. Go home and cry – – while fantasizing about carving pumpkins.
During high school, while girls on the Itty Bitty Titty Committee (remember that?) were saving up to buy a new set of wheels or a graduation trip to Hawaii, (in an “itty bitty, teeny weeny, yellow polka dot” you know what) I was squirreling away my allowance for breast reduction surgery. But it wasn’t looking good. My very protective father had already declared that, “No doctor was taking a scalpel to his small, little girl.” Bless his heart with his choice of adjectives.
So I did what any typical female would do when something was “too large” on her body. I dieted to reduce their size. And I did lose weight, even though I didn’t really need to. You can get quite disciplined when your only option of a swimsuit for the beach looks like something your grandmother would have worn. Circa 1929.
Figure 38 H
You can see just how well Weight Watchers worked out for me (with addressing this issue) by referring to Figure 38 H to the left (yes, that’s “H” now!) Only add more of a frowny face to this diagram.
Now it was time to try the opposite tact. This time I ate a lot more food to attempt to camouflage them in excess weight. But they only inflated. While I was toying with the idea of trying a sharp pinprick, (would I zoom crazily airborne around the house like a balloon? ) I happened to meet a nice boy. By this time I was exhausted from trying to change mother nature, (but you know what they always say, “No breast for the weary”) and decided acceptance was my only answer.
Luckily, this boy was soft-spoken and at age 17, helped me cultivate somewhat of a sense of humor about them. He called me his “Little Treasure Chest.” Compared to the names I heard walking by a construction site, this was definitely a breast of fresh air! One afternoon he leaned back comfortably against me, his head cradled between – – well you know – – singing along to that hit Police song, “Every breast you take….every move you make,” when suddenly he announced that if he installed a couple of stereo speakers in them, he’d have himself a boob tube with Dolby Surround Sound headphones. That was it.
“You know what?” I asked. He waited with baited breast breath. “Give it a breast rest already! You and I are done.” What a jerk, thinking he could just lie back and breast on his laurels. Ha – – he wasn’t the only one with good breast puns.
My version of a “Spaghetti Strap” dress! But I couldn’t have worn this pretty “Pasta Prom” dress either! No Siree, Bob! (ps. His name wasn’t Bob!)
Besides, I couldn’t have gone with him to my Senior Prom even if I wanted to. Why? Because Spaghetti Strap dresses were all the department stores sold. Could I wear that style ?? Fat chance! Not even with a dozen spaghetti strands. (as pictured at left!)
Fast forward to age 18 and it was time to implement Plan B (and B was the exact letter I was going for with reduction surgery, by the way!) so I scheduled the operation. When the fateful morning arrived, I went to the hospital with just a bit of trepidation. In the operating room, the young, handsome, curly haired Doctor came in and spoke to me, holding my hand while gazing deeply into my eyes, (a preview of what would be when I was finally smaller?) as he explained the exact procedure. I suppose he wanted to keep me abreast of everything that would occur.
He then exited out the door and I was alone with my itty bitty thoughts. When the door opened next, a man walked in wearing surgical scrubs. I grew suspicious as he opened the front of my hospital gown and took out a black Sharpie pen.
Me: Wait a sec. Who are YOU?
Surgeon: (drawing circles on my skin) I’m the same guy who was here before. Only with a cap and mask. Why, who do you think I am?
Me: Oh I don’t know. I thought maybe they were selling tickets out there for strange men to come inside and doodle on my breasts with magic markers.
Surgeon: Very funny. Have you considered Nursing in the future?
Me: Well, I get a little squeamish around blood. Why? Do you need an assistant?”
Surgeon: Breastfeeding. (pause) And you may not be able to. (brightly) So how do you feel about C’s?
Me: I pride myself on being a straight A student, but I’ll settle for a couple of B’s.
Surgeon: A or B? But you’d be completely flat!?
Me: That’s the idea. I wanna give people a craving for blueberry Pancakes.
When I woke up on that recovery table, (even though I was in excruciating pain) – – the first thing I did was reach down to feel the results. Straight through the bandages. And in that moment, I knew . . . I would finally be able to say to my body, “Breast in Peace.” Forever.
Footnote: Somehow I always thought as I approached menopause, the reverse of puberty would occur. I would lose my cycles and of course my breasts would un-grow. Okay! Now, would someone PLEASE hand over the “Change Of Life Manual??” Because my body didn’t seem to get that memo. “They’re Baaaaaaaaack!” And no, that’s not a preview for the movie, Poltergeist.
Leave me a comment – – maybe you have some big boob remark that I’ve never heard before. But you can breast rest assured, I probably have!
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I still belong to the aforementioned “committee” and prior to growing up hated it. Then I got to see first-hand what my cousin had to endure. Just last year I went with her on her consultation for a breast reduction (she had been wanting to do it for years). It been a few months now and she’s never been happier.
Loved your puns but I could feel the sorrow as well. Very well written as always. Thank you Steph
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Ahh, I don’t think I ever saw this. Thanks for reading and commenting on one of my more meaningful posts. Missed you!
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You’re welcome. It was a very good read.
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I am grateful that I have a wife that has a great sense of humor. No… it might not be what you’re thinking. I had a repressed childhood, so normally, I’d just blush and grin sheepishly at such things. She encourages me to laugh. “Over the Shoulder Boulder Holder” is a term she likes to use.
Even her little sister (‘Trinity’) has gotten me to see things a bit differently. The story I like to tell was she and I were watching the MTV music awards one year and Lil’ Kim came out with this half-dress on her right side and a pastie on her left breast. Well Diana Ross was there with her at the microphone and said something like “Look at you…! All this…” and then bounced the pasty-covered breast and I said out loud, “Holy… did she really just bounce her boob like that?” and she said, “Yeah!” and I said, “But this is on national television… well, not broadcast, but cable, but still…” and she said, “I know!”
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Wow! I am not sure why I didn’t get notified about this comment of yours before but thank you! I love that anecdote!
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Oh… but it so actually happened:
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Thanks and very nice your blog… 🙂
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Thank you so much for dropping in and commenting.
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Most welcome to u… 🙂
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Thank you for allowing us laugh with you. It must have been tough to be different and misunderstood. @my little treasure chest- what a name! 🙂
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Hey you! Just stumbled upon your comment this moment. Thank you so much for empathizing! Much appreciation. Stephanie
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Aren’t people just “BEST” especially teenagers and the only thing worse than a teenager is a teenage boy. Always sooo supportive (oh sorry) and understanding. Knowing the terrible pressure that adolescence has on a person most go out of their way to let you know they feel for you (or is that feel you up). Really they should locked in a room and fed through a slot in the door until the turn 20. I’m so sorry that you were marked not for who you were but for things far less important. When I gained weight during my little – shall we say – hibernation my breasts gained with me and although it was never anything close to what you carried with you each day for so long I must admit that the muscle strain combined with no longer be able to sleep on my stomach was hard to live with.
As a girl and as a young woman I didn’t have you’re issues to deal with but being 5ft3 with blonde hair and green eyes and genetics that had me looking 16 into my twenties did have the rather demeaning side effect of rendering most people oblivious to the fact that I had a brain – one capable of stringing more than three words together on topics other than boys, shoes or boys. Girls as a rule didn’t like me (don’t blame them I didn’t like me) and boys – they never really met me.
Despite everything even those who knew me well would call me Princess or Mini Marilyn and not understand why I kept on saying my name is Jenni I’m a person not stereotype. Most also missed the fact as I left my teens and entered the hallowed halls of my 20’s that I spent most of my free time involved in environmental groups and community political meetings getting myself a double degree along the way (B.A Humanities/B.Bus. Marketing and Communications). You think at some point one or two of them would have picked up that I was not what they imagined.
One of life’s ultimate jokes is that when my health (mental and physical) broke in my 30’s and the impact showed with weight gain and a sudden leap in age appearance wise, people actually wanted to hear what I thought – Perfect really – I turn into a recluse and suddenly I’m interesting and not as an attachment for parties. Piss poor timing and too little too late. Now I’m just me toddling along thinking my thinks and sending them out into the world on their little cyber journeys and wait for them to come back and tell me where they’ve been. Lets see what this one says when it comes back.
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Profound comment – – thank you. Aside from the teenage boy angst, I also had men my father’s age accosting me in the grocery store, etc. Stuff like that happening when you’re emotionally 12 years old but your body has betrayed you and leapt ahead to age 21, foisting you into a pretty foreign, scary world. Anyhow, what you are describing sounds extraordinarily anguishing and the irony you point out is not lost on me, that’s for certain. Life seems to twist and turn in those ways so that “timing is everything.” Cliched, I know….but I have found it normally pans out to be perfectly true. Please keep “thinking your thinks” and send them C.O.D to me!
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Men – Hmpf – Really sometimes – just no words – nope none at all for the scum of the earth that were supposed to know better than to accost young girls – ooh look found some. Will be following your site as you really do make me laugh and cry with your pieces and I really relate to a lot of what you put out there in the ether. So be E-seeing you.
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The only thing worse than a teenage boy is a teenage girl. You should have heard some of the comments I’ve received from some of them. The insults and biting laughter aimed at my underdeveloped penis. You had big breasts. Shame. Try being a young man with a small penis. Word gets around that you’ve got a “shrimp dick” and you’re the laughing stock. And that one time I get together with a girl was because she wanted to report back to her friends on how small it is. It took me years to accept that I’ve been short-changed in life and that a small penis is not the end of the world. For context my penis is 2.6″ long and quite thin. I’ve never had a girlfriend for longer than 4 months. My penis is always the reason they leave.
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I am sorry that there are so many unthinking and downright cruel individuals who hurt other people. Not sure how you found me but I am glad you have found some peace in your self-acceptance.
Stephanie
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Jeez, you gotta lotta love on this one. I’m feeling lazy; go check out my comment on your sister-in-blogging-and-bra-gging’s post. :>
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Once again, you managed to perfectly balance humor and something serious. Thank you for this essay. I hail from the Itty Bitty side, so I really had no idea what it was like to be overly well endowed. I never considered people not taking you seriously and the physical issues being “blessed with big breasts” gave you. Thank you for educating us Itty Bitties, and doing so with humor. (The scene with the surgeon was HYSTERICAL.)
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Stephanie,
This is marvelous! You are simply fantastic with your humor and insights. I loved it! I was flat chested in my youth and would have loved to have bigger breasts for guys to stare at. I would get a larger size bra and stuff it with tissues so I would look just a little sexy.
Natalie
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first time visits, nice post 😉
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Hey, thanks so much for dropping in. May I ask how you found me?
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Oddly enough, I came across this article today Stephanie. You might enjoy it: http://thehoopla.com.au/big-boobs-badham/
🙂
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Hi again! I immediately went right to your link and read it in its entirety, comments and all. It is so nice to know i wasn’t alone in this. I wish I would have known that back then. Misery would have adored some company! But somehow it seemed, I was the only girl in school struggling with the issue. She also makes a great point with the feelings of guilt I experienced re: breast cancer. I had forgotten about that until her words triggered me back. It wasn’t as prevalent back then, but my best friend’s mother was just diagnosed two weeks before my surgery and she kept saying to me, “How can you voluntarily elect to do something that they’ll have to take me in kicking and screaming for?” Not real helpful at the time.
I also left out of my blog (because even to this day I couldn’t find any humor in it) the fact that I was fired from my first three jobs (restaurant hostess/waitress positions) because “You’re distracting the kitchen help and they’re burning all the food.” Really? THEIR eyes were burning holes through the top part of my waitress uniform!
Actually if you want to read a funny waitress anecdote relating to being well endowed, (and this was AFTER my surgery even!) go to my post here: https://thequotegal.wordpress.com/2014/01/27/ill-have-what-shes-having/
and read the paragraph just above the list of tips I wrote for customers.
Wow, you really started me on a roll with your two sentence comment, didn’t you!!?
But I thank you for it – – all healing!
Take good care now,
Stephanie
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Glad you enjoyed the article Stephanie! I had no idea the sizes went up to JJ. Are there any bigger?
I’m at the opposite end of the spectrum so have never needed to venture that way.
I myself, have recalled facts long after I’ve posted my work up, when it is too late to alter the post and can understand where you’re at.
It must have caused you some consternation and some hard thinking when your friend bailed you up regarding your decision to go ahead with your breast reduction operation. In the long run, despite everything, you are the person having to live with your issue so, you made the decision for yourself. And it is quite obvious that you did not make it lightly. And I bet, you haven’t regretted it.
You made a very good point on the fact that people have no right to comment on or feel they have a right to give their opinion on another person’s body. I had to endure comments about my skinny legs most of my teenage years, with the consequence that I felt I needed to hide them when I could. Friends would often greet me with, ‘drum stick and bones,’ or would urge me to ‘eat,’ because I was naturally skinny. My family knew I had a good appetite and ate my three square meals a day without any prompting. My body obviously burned it off easily.
It therefore, came as an absolute delight when strangers and acquaintances complimented me for my ‘model’ legs much later. I remember being astounded and speechless the first time an acquaintance stopped and told me that my legs (I was in stilettoes at the time) reminded her of a stocking advertisement on TV. I searched her face to see if she was just joking and then had to remember to ‘thank her’ for the compliment. Up until then, I never considered
my legs even remotely looked appealing.
I read your post and it is amazing what you’ve had to put up with. You take care Stephanie and my best to you. And you’re a great writer and so very funny too.
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Hi Wendy! I never saw this comment before. Thank you for leaving me such a long, thoughtful message. I sure don’t know if it goes up past JJ and I don’t wanna find out!! I really loved your second to the last paragraph when you came into your own and could finally take some joy in your legs, first through another’s eyes but then hopefully through your own as well. However, I must say that as I grow older, I am all for banishing our society’s rigid definition of what is attractive and focusing on what’s INSIDE all of our “shells” instead.
Thank you for the very sweet compliments.
Talk soon,
Stephanie
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I thought the first photo was your selfie. On second look, oh! I guess I can’t see your eyes.
I wonder if you ever used the wheelbarrow or melon lines in response to cat calls.
I like watching you grow up, not out, as you learn to put links in your posts. Well done! It worked! Thanks for introducing me to Diahann.
Getting pregnant and breastfeeding were a blast for me because I finally got to experience what it was like to have breasts. Vulgar boys talked about my ironing board and their needing magnifying glasses. One boyfriend was nice enough to say, “more than a mouthful is a waste.” I couldn’t wear a bikini because I didn’t have anything to hold it down from my armpits.
Honey, I’m so hurting for you as you share the surgery story. I hope sharing it here helps to get it off your chest. Sorry for the jest. Seriously, I would feel so frightened if I were in your shoes, wondering if those tumorous weeds were returning after I thought I mowed them down for good.
Thanks for lightening “up with heavier issues than my breasts.” You brighten up my days, but today, I feel compassion for you.
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Gee, I don’t know Grace – – reading the last few comments you’ve left me, (which make it apparent that you’re not still in college,) have really thrown me for a perceptual loop! Your gravitar looks sooooooo youthful plus you remind me of my closet friend who was editor of my university’s literary magazine, so naturally I just had you pegged as a twenty-something. Now I have to do all this readjusting and visualize you tucking in a child at night, of all things! Thank you for the compassion AND the “jest about getting things off my chest” Good one! I appreciate all of you. All the time. Your new radio show – – “All Grace, All the Time.” Yes!
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Until my divorce, people thought I was 10 years older than I was. Within weeks of separating from my X, people began (and continue) thinking I was 10-20 years younger than I was. You’re in good company since I was 20-something 20 years before the photo was taken, which was nearly 10 years ago. How fast can you do the math 😉 It’s been a while since I tucked a child in at night. Even my baby is turning 21 this year.
Remember when…long ago…we went to the next clothes swap,and I brought my 45s, and we compared puzzle rings? What does the y generation know about puzzle rings and 45s?
Thanks for the radio show. Will you co-host it? It’ll have to be coast to coast since I’m on the East coast.
I just noticed your abbreviated name. I like it. Your paws are so cute. Thanks for being so delightful.
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On the surface, this was a humorous post, but I picked up on the real pain from earlier in your life. Who has not gone through puberty unscarred? The decision for such surgery must have been intense.
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Who indeed? Yeah, the decision to have the surgery itself was actually surprisingly easy….(when you feel like a circus freak side-show, the decision kinda makes itself) But it was the horrific scars afterward that were quite intense – – which as you may have noticed, I bypassed completely in this blog. Thanks for stopping in, John. Your comments are always highly valued.
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Really liked this blog! Can relate! Good to have a sense of humor about these things!
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Thanks – – yes, sometimes it’s either laugh or cry, and laughing burns more calories 😉
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So why is it that you didn’t include a selfie that includes the subject of this post? You can rest assured that we readers are all mature adults who would never enlarge the photo, except in cases where such enlargement would result in our own personal edification and education on issues of female health.
Seriously, though, I’ve seen articles about people who lose weight and end up being uncomfortable with all the sexual attention they hadn’t been getting before. So the whole problem with having large breasts sounds pretty normal to a guy like me who has never had to worry about such things.
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What? The watermelon photo wasn’t a good substitute? 😉 Well, all I can say is aside from an overload of sexual attention (for a teen girl) there was a physical aspect to it that nobody in their right mind (or body) would wish for because it was painful…at least on my body frame. Thanks for commenting – – always interested in the male perspective.
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I still think you could have put our maturity to the breast. (See, I had one bad pun in me…)
And yeah… cup size for a guy is something else completely and it doesn’t cause back problems. However, pain can arise if one angers the wrong person…
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Laughing, laughing….Somehow, I just knew you did, Bumble. “Be our guest, be our guest….put our service to the breast….” Okay, she’s getting punchy now.
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Coming from my background, we Indians don’t really talk so openly about breasts… My folks didn’t even give me the sex talk.. LOL.. so yeah I kinda get awkward whenever people mention boobs… my mum messes around with me sometimes and points to images in the newspaper and goes “look this guy has breasts (man boobs)!!” and I’m like “That’s nice mum… what’s for breakfast?”
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So what IS for breakfast? 😉 Alright, Sir Sid, well I thank you for commenting anyhow. And you should note that I am still putting your “linking method” to good use in this post as well!
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Lol 🙂 good to see that you are getting comfortable with linking posts, but really you don’t have to thank me every time 😛
and Dosa, we had Dosa (imagine pancakes the size of a small hula-hoop, made of rice flour) for breakfast… LOL 😛
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This is hilarious. Very good that you can take a serious topic that I have actually consulted several patients about and make it humorous. I thought it was very funny and well written. On this one I will leave the humor to you.
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Thank you! I do appreciate your comment as you obviously can discern that I was not intending to be trite or trying to trivialize this. Just trying to bring to light a topic that some might not be aware of in a way that wasn’t too heavy to digest. I do look forward to other’s commenting on this piece, in particular, since it took a lot for me to write it. Thank you again.
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My nicely endowed daughter became hugely endowed after two kids and nursing each for 2-3 years. When her neighbor’s mother came right out and asked her how much she paid for those her only response was “Two kids.”
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Perfect response! Isn’t is amazing, people think nothing of asking that type of thing!! I got asked that too, AFTER my surgery (by new friends who hadn’t known me prior) and nobody could believe that I had actually gone the other direction. Oy….people!
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You do a beautiful job of telling your own breast story- the poignancy shimmers through the humor. So many layers happening at once in this story. (Ps. I am honored for the reference and ping above.)
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Diahann – – Your original post had me “simmering” before I could do any “shimmering,” believe me. You really gave me food for thought about my past experiences and I let a few weeks go by until I felt ready to chuckle about “some of it.” Note: Anything omitted from above story just could not be made light of and so I chose to stuff it back inside. One day I’ll work on the rest. Thank you again for being so thought-provoking for me. Anyone reading this comment, PLEASE take a look at Diahann’s entire Blog – – it is simply stunning writing!
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I’m so glad to hear that you got “simmering” so you could start “shimmering.” I love that we as women can activate each other and ourselves by sharing our stories.
Your words of support about my work really means a lot- it can be scary to put oneself out there, so it’s so lovely to be so warmly received.
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Hi there Miss M, No puns here … just sympathy! I have always maintained that I was busy elsewhere (head in a book no doubt) when big breasts were being handed out, so missed out. My sister on the other hand, had a skinny body and these magnificent breasts (not as bad … C cups). Imagine two sisters with one gifted and the other not!
Although I knew about the back problem, you explained the issues well. Bouquets to you and thanks for sharing!
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You just made my day! Thank you for visiting me here!
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PS. I just took a look at your blog. You stand corrected. BOTH you and your sister are gifted! 😉 I’m a follower!
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Thank you Stephanie. That’s something coming from a writer like you!
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I like the google eye idea. If I ever get to come for a visit, I’d like you to pick me up from the airport wearing them 😉
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The “eyes” have it. You got it, Kimberly!
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😉 that would be hysterical. To have a girls night and the whole pack superglue them to their shirt
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There are times I have an insightful and relevant comment to share. Other times my mind goes blank as I imagine a set of craft googly eyes staring back at me and I’m left somewhat speechless.
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That was super funny! I was afraid guys were nervous to comment on this post…. Thanks for breaking the ice.
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I worked with someone who was well endowed in the department we are talking about. There was a man in the building who was very interested in asking her out and when he finally did he stared at her breast. He never looked her in the eyes. When he was finished her response was: My eyes are up here not down there and no they are not interested in going out with you.
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Yeah, that’s pretty typical from others I have spoken to. It’s very objectifying and rather humiliating (I could never get over the feeling that people thought I WANTED to look that way.) Anyhow, thanks for being here – – in the comments section! Very supportive as it felt risky to write this.
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Ouch, that must have been difficult. I’m glad you had the surgery and felt better.
I’ve always been relatively flat-chested and bottom heavy – you can call me a clASSic pear shape 😉
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Yeah, Probably nobody is ever really happy. It’s just that I was particularly UNhappy from 13 on until I got proactive. Thanks for reading/commenting!
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