I've always had big tits, and my mother was all atwitter as I began to "blossom" in the 8th grade or thereabouts. Smock tops were the fashion then, and that's all she let me wear, plus she sewed together the shirt opening just at the bust line so they wouldn't gap. Yeah, I had to pull the shirts on. She fretted over the way the shirts hung away from my body over the tits, as well, and tried to think of ways to make that less noticeable, too. I suggested she could sew them to the tops of my pants, and she considered it for a few minutes till I added, "Of course, I wouldn't be able to get into my clothes, if you sewed the tops and bottoms together."
The "discussions" continued till the end of high school and into the beginning of college. By then I had side jobs and had money of my own, and one time when we were clothes shopping, I picked out a form-fitting black velour v-necked pullover. It fit very nicely. The following "discussion" can probably be accurately imagined. Finally she snarled, "I'm not paying for it." "I always planned to pay for it myself," I told her calmly.
In her defense, her own father was a drunkard and made very nasty, baseless accusations of her, and she adored him, so she was always very sensitive about how my sisters and I presented ourselves. Still . . . I suspect my weight gain was more than a little based in the desire to stop having male persons make remarks at me based on my tits. It's easier to be fat than to be busty.
The thing that's been cracking me up lately is that I've been hanging out with a few people (the dancers) who are skinny girls. Who are almost entirely flat. So me and my ginormous *A* cups are ...large. And have gotten commented on. And I"m like "What crazy alterna-universe are we in here, y'all??"
The boobs conversation reminds me of a conversation I had here at work with a tall, skinny co-worker who was saying she can't wear certain things. I was like, dude. Don't say that to other people -- everyone else thinks you're the one who can wear anything!
Most of my weekend will be spent in the suburbs with friends. Inside, I assume.
What time is the cookout?
5pm. So I think we'll spend time in the East Bay after church. Maybe see your Mom or Lisa? I dunno.
lisah (and Plei, et al) are my sistahs!
Dammit. My Republican friend, who insists on forwarding me those silly Republican emails forced me to, once again, spend time crafty a snarky reply.
The hyperbolic knife cuts both ways, my friend. And I'm smarter than you, so quit testing me.
I consider myself on the small side of the boobalicious, and they can easily be damned inconvenient. And mine are pretty well behaved. I don't think of DDs as the ideal (I don't think of any size as the ideal, really), and with people I respect they don't care. And people I don't respect shouldn't think about my breasts. It's annoying.
Sometimes you want to be looked in the eyes. Sometimes you want to be able to command respect while wearing a tank top.
Barb--I love the Cold Case theme too. I always watch the credits. They're short, and besides sometimes they list Thom Barry next to Tracy Thoms and that amuses me disproportionately.
The left side of my face is so swollen! Oy. And I can't bite food yet, so I may go out for a smoothie for lunch.
This weekend I'm going to try to make it to the gym again.
There's a connotation of being slutty, easy, asking for it. Plus finding clothes that fit that ride the thin line between frumpy and slutty (perceived or not). Being randomly grabbed, and not just by total pervs, but by guys who decide that because they're out there you must want them to.
So, hmm, this is interesting. Change the perceived as slutty to perceived as ugly and undesirable and everything else stays the same (the problems with clothes, the inability to find a bra that fits, even the random grabbing of the tits). So maybe most of the annoyance is boob-related period.
I wish I could wear tank tops and spaghetti strap dresses and button down shirts.
Yes, please. Mine aren't even that big, but they're kind of big for the rest of my body. Also I'd lose some breast if it meant losing in other parts of the body, too. That is what I envy about flat-chested women - they get to look sleek and chic and seem to have more clothing options than us breasty folk. Look at the majority of models - they look great in clothes because they don't have the big boobies to contend with. However, I do love me some boobies! BOOBIES YAY!
Finding sports bras for larger boobs is especially frustrating. And just because the boobs are large, general bra manufacturers seem to assume they don't need anything pretty to adorn them. I'm so tired of white/beige/black bras. I found one purple one in my size (38DD) a year ago and wore it out in a few months.
Oh ita, I was so bummed to read about your latest ER visit. Let me know if I can do anything for you.
