Corporate Curves Report: Part of Me

I was chatting with my fellow columnist Mia about a dilemma that I have: we are a bust-focused blog, but I sometimes struggle to  find a busty angle for my posts. I told her, “It’s just harder for me to be analytic over boobs as I never saw them as a problem even when it was harder to find clothes. I just became super happy over well-fitting clothes because I looked slimmer. So it’s hard to focus on anything specifically related to my bust size–it’s just a part of me, but I don’t really think about it that much. If I write about myself, it is busty because that’s how I physically am. That’s my take on it.”

I never really saw this as a blog topic, but Mia made me realize that it might actually make a good one! I’ve just been feeling a little guilty over the fact that I must struggle to make bust size a focal point in everything I write.

So why do so many women I know seem preoccupied with their bust size? I really had to think about it. I’m a person who just is; I’m generally not bothered about much, and even though I like analytic discussions about just about anything and love a great constructive discussion, I still don’t feel that strongly about a lot of things. The way I grew up, my self image and esteem just happened to be built around who I am and what I do over what I look like. I won’t go into specifics, but I’m one of the many in this world who has had a very winding path on my way to adulthood, so looks were not high on the priority list a lot of the time.

In a sense I do pay attention to my bust size, but most often in a joking way–as in when someone asks me to do something and I can’t do it in the same way because of my bust, I’ll just say, “Well, not with my boobs!” or something along those lines. A British co-worker asked me this week why I bought from a UK online store when the pound is so strong at the moment. I just said to him, “Well, if I want a trench coat that buttons all the way up, I have to order from a specialist retailer in the UK.” I’ve also told some co-workers that I write this column because it’s harder to find clothes when you are big-busted. Most people haven’t really thought of that actually! They often get an Aha! moment when they realize that it’s actually true.

My surroundings are definitely another factor in my attitude. Here men don’t catcall women or holler on the streets. Generally we are taught from childhood not to stare at people, not to point at people, and to give people their privacy. So while it is noticeable that I am above-average-busted, people usually don’t show in any way that they notice. Well, also I’m quite blind. Even if they do, I hardly ever notice if someone’s looking at me anyway! It has to be such blatant bust staring that even I notice. In those rare cases, it’s usually just something I can crack a joke about if it happens at work since I’m not bothered if it clearly is just innocent and not on purpose.

But I do wonder sometimes how I’m described to someone who is looking for me at the office and doesn’t know who I am!!! If I say that he’s the dark bearded, deep voiced bold guy in a hoodie–well, am I then the dark-haired, big-busted woman with the black specs who always wears dresses or something? 😀 I’d rather not know, but I know that I might be, and it’s ok. I am that way.

It might seem like a contradiction that I write for a busty blog, but I am big busted and love clothes, so why not? I just don’t always make a focal point over that as it just doesn’t come naturally to me. To me the topics I feel most deeply about apply to womanhood in general and from that perspective, accepting your body is not specific to any particular body type but to anyone in general.

My personal trainer Maria asked me yesterday at the gym when we were–again–fixing my posture during an exercise, “Have you ever considered a reduction?” I was a little stunned at first as the thought had never entered my head. I replied, “No, why would I have?” I understood her point after my initial reply, but then I continued, “If I hadn’t found my correct bra size when I did, I don’t know, I might think differently.” But I’m blessed with not having any pain because of the weight of my bust so that is essentially why. It’s also most likely why my bust is just one part of me just like the rest of my body. If there were any pain, I’d probably think about it a lot more.

Big Boobs: Sense of Humor Required

It’s time for a little big bust humor to get us over the mid-week hurdle (although personally I don’t WANT Wednesday to end because that means our vacation is closer to ending as well). Here are some of my favorite funny stories submitted during our last Parfait giveaway. Have you had any similar experiences?

  • Funny boob story: I bought a shirt with one of those long strips on the front indicating the size at Target or somewhere, and totally forgot to take it off, and walked around ALL DAY with it on, because it was below my Boob Shelf and I couldn’t see it. I don’t know if no one noticed, or was just too embarrassed to tell me – because I got home and it was still there!
  • When I go out with friends, I usually don’t have pockets, so I just keep everything in my bra and just be sneaky when I get it out. Well, one time, I thought that no one was looking, but a group of guys saw me grab my ID out of my bra! One of them said something like “So that’s why they’re so big!!!!” and I almost died. It was really hilarious after the fact, but at the time it was super embarrassing.
  • One of my funniest personal anecdotes is actually a prime example of my favorite thing about being a busty woman. I hit up the mall shortly after an exam to look for a new facial cleanser – tests and the stress associated with them always bring out the worst in my skin. I was wearing a basic black v-neck and a pair of old blue jeans, so I definitely wasn’t looking my best. One of those mall stands caught my eye, but I was a little bit wary about approaching, since the people manning them tend to be persistent to a fault in trying to get you to buy. Before I could decide whether or not I wanted to approach and look at their skin care products, I was practically pounced on by a young, attractive Middle Eastern man. He started off with his pitch, with that unnaturally happy tone that sales people often have, and eventually his eyes drifted downward to my cleavage. He quickly caught himself, but it happened two or three more times before he finally stopped talking, looked pointedly at my chest and said “I’m sorry, but those are so distracting.” He then continued to engage me in conversation about my breasts in a manner too charming for me to be offended. He flirtatiously made a sales pitch, but wanted over $60 for the scrub that I was interested in and there was no way I was paying that. We chatted some more, he kept stopping me from just walking away and finally he showed me how the scrub worked. I was really impressed, but there was still no way that I was going to be paying that much. In the end, however, I did end up buying a facial scrub – for 75% off what he was selling it for despite the fact that it was already “50% off” (you know, that pretend discount that stalls like that sometimes have to make you think that you’re getting a great deal) – and he threw in a couple of freebies (plus his number on the receipt). While I’m aware that it’s just his job to sell things, I definitely think that I came out winning – I got a bunch of products that I was already looking for at a great price, and a confidence boost along with it!
  • Unexpected Big-Boob Problems are what makes the world go ’round. Mine came when I started working full-time as a nanny.I’ve been working with my charges since the day they came home from the hospital, and in the nine months I’ve been around, I’ve done lots of diaper changes, played lots of peek-a-boo, and administered lots of bottles. These babies started off nursing, and that’s when my troubles (albeit hilarious troubles) began.You see, babies don’t discriminate. They don’t care whose boob’s they’re going after, they just want milk. If you have mammaries attached to you, gosh darn it, they are going to try. And I am being completely serious when I tell you that you haven’t experienced anything until you’ve been on the receiving end of a reproachful glare from a hungry 3-month old.
  • Short but sweet funny story:  There’s a cute guy on my train ride home most days.  The other day I thought I caught him looking at my awesome rack but turns out he was just noticing my awesome ketchup stain! 🙂
  • Probably the funniest, but perhaps also most terrifying, story I have to tell about my breasts is about a meeting I had at work. I was wearing a “button-down” style shirt (which happened to have snaps instead of buttons). About halfway through the meeting, I was getting a little bored and fidgeted a bit in my chair. My breasts took this as a sign that I wanted to  take my shirt off, because three of the snaps immediately came undone. Fortunately, this did not seem to make any sound and the people near me at the table seemed absorbed in the content of the meeting, so I do not believe anyone else noticed. (And if they did, they did not say anything.) In retrospect, I would think it was a fairly humorous incident, although it was mortifying at the time.
  • As a high schooler I met a friend’s grandmother who was visiting from out of town. As she was leaving she realized she could not find her car keys. She described them as a big set the size of her fist with charms, car and house keys. We looked everywhere for what felt like eternity to no avail. Poor grandma started to cry and reached into her cleavage for a tissue. Lo and behold her keys appeared as well. 🙂 My high school size C cup couldn’t believe she had lost her keys in her boobs! Now my size I cup completely understands.

  • The funniest/ most ironic thing, I guess, is when it comes to my birthday. EVERYTIME I bent over to blow out the candles, I have a chest full of frosting!! The ironic part is that now I bake for a living. Boob indents are an extra fee….
  • My 34G breasts great to 34K with my pregnancy.  No one noticed my pregnant stomach since my boobs were bigger than my belly!  After she was born, I was sitting in my 6 week post-delivery appointment waiting for my OB, I look down and my boobs are basically sitting on my lap and my entire lap is wet and my legs are dripping with breast milk.  The shocked look on my OB’s face when she came in to find me holding a boob in each hand trying to stop the flow was priceless.

Big Boob Power: Iron Woman

Last month, we asked you to share a funny story about your life with big boobs or what you like most about having them. Today’s story is one of my favorites. It comes from Maria, a multimedia and graphic design student in her final year at university.



A funny story I have to share is about a night my friends and I were eating fast food in our car. It was dark, and I needed light to see what I was eating, and my mobile has a light, soooo I stuffed it in my rather large cleavage.:p It worked! Ha ha. I was able to see just fine. My girlfriends saw me, took a pic and started calling me the Iron Woman with the light on her chest.

Big Boob Benefit: Rainy Days & Mondays

Last week my niece got caught in our first thunderstorm on her way home. Has this ever happened to you?

She tells me that whenever she got caught in the rain in college, all she had to do was carry her books under her bust to keep her books dry.

I couldn’t find this exact situation on Busty Girl Comics, but it’s the opposite of her portrayal of boob sweat. By the way, when you click that link, does the comic show up? It doesn’t for me, but I found it in the archives thumbnail for May 19, 2012. I wonder if she’s removed her comics to sell her books?