Fairy Bra Mother #7: A Letter from Bras I Hate

Today and tomorrow’s posts are like thinking you’ve finished opening all of your birthday presents only to discover two more that were forgotten in someone’s car. I don’t know how I overlooked them, but I’m delighted to be able to share them with you.  The first comes from Bras I Hate, an irreverant and, as the author describes it, “new(ish) blog focusing on brutally honest reviews and tips to help everyone find the best bra for them”.

She brings yet another angle to what it can be like growing up with big boobs.  Here is the context for her letter:

I want to explain that this letter might seem a little weird because my experience was pretty different from most people when I was a preteen/teenager.  I never got anyone staring at my boobs, commenting on them, or anything—it was like no one noticed. I assumed that everyone hated big boobs because I’d never met a guy who said he liked them. This made me struggle with my self-esteem for years. … [T]his is the letter I wish someone would have sent me when I was that age.

Dear D+ Girl,

So it seems like suddenly you have big boobs. Maybe it’s not even sudden—maybe it sort of took awhile and they crept on you and you didn’t notice them getting so big, but now you start to think maybe they are; maybe they’re huge.

It’s going to be a bit of an adjustment. Here’s the truth: somehow you’re going to have to put more effort into looking nice than any of the smaller-chested girls you know. And a lot of the time, those girls will be the ones getting the attention. They’ll talk about how guys are always looking at their boobs. And then you’ll feel weird because guys aren’t looking at your boobs. Why aren’t they looking?

The fact is that they are looking. They’re looking a lot and some of them would love to date you, even if you find that hard to believe. You just don’t notice them looking because they’re good at hiding it, and you’re not expecting it. At least not noticing this will spare you years of feeling stared at.

Don’t worry, it’s normal to want to get attention for the body part that you’re spending so much time trying to clothe and support. It’s normal to hope that you’ll at least have a bit of an edge in getting the attention of the people you’ve got crushes on. And then maybe those guys will have a loud conversation in front of you about how they’re “a butt guy”, or you’ll notice that they only date very skinny flat-chested girls. And then you’ll wonder, does anyone like big boobs? Where’s all the hype coming from if no one likes them?

Well, here’s what you need to remember. There ARE a lot of guys (and girls) out there who PREFER big boobs to small ones. Don’t ever forget it. Sure, everyone has a type, and not every guy is obsessed with boobs. But there are plenty who appreciate them. It’s not a deal breaker either way for most people, but you will find someone who loves you for you AND loves your boobs. And that’s good because they’re a part of you.

Even if you hate them right now, even if you hate them for YEARS, they are still YOURS. They belong to you. And someday, you will find yourself willing to defend them. Then you’ll realize that you don’t mind them anymore—that you’d miss them more if they went away because you’re so used to them now. And maybe someday you’ll even start to love them, and I hope you will, because I know now how much fun that can be.

It might take along time to feel normal with this. But it’s going to get better. It’s going to be alright.

Love,
Your Fairy Bra Mother

The Rack– Not His Type

The first time I met D, I had come to our mutual friend’s get-together straight from a luau at my aunt’s house. I was wearing a low-cut tank top over a bikini with a sarong and a straw hat. We sat around in the backyard talking about what most 19 year-olds fresh from their first year of college would: sex, drinking, roommates, and finally, our studies at our respective universities. D went to NYU, and since he was smart, funny, and a friend of a friend, I was more than happy to accept his invitation to meet up once we started the fall semester in the big apple. We joked about who would buy the drinks, and I smirked and promised that I could convince him to buy everyone in the bar a round– with the right shirt.

“I’m an ass man,” he retorted.

A few weeks later, we met up in the village. I wore something V-necked and lacy. He bought the drinks… and then we dated for 3 years. My secret? Squats, lunges, & a great pair of jeans. Pause for fitness tip: I guess I’m more or less hourglass shaped. I was lucky enough to get some hips to even out my shoulders– but I’ve got very little meat on my lower half, so I make a point to spend time doing strengthening & toning moves to sculpt a cute little ‘muscle butt’ which is the next best thing to one of those perfect grapefruit tushies pear-shaped women have, in my humble opinion.

But enough about that.

For some ironic reason, I have almost-exclusively dated “ass” men: guys who swear they’re not into breasts, but then end up being huge fans. So heres my theory– a guy might say he prefers curves on the bottom, but is he really going to find a girl shaped like Salma Hayek or Christina Hendricks unattractive? Doubtful. I think guys fit into two categories: Those who like curves, (on top, on the bottom, shapely legs or a tiny waist, a.k.a. 99% of women), and those who like that half-starved, 100 pounds soaking wet look. (I have yet to encounter the latter, but I’m told they exist.)

My experiences and conversations with men have taught me that all of the pressure we feel as women to be thinner, taller, and have a six-pack come not from men or their preferences but from the media’s distorted idea of what a woman should look like, and *here’s a shocker*- other women. Few of us have seen a woman who is 5’11” and a size 2 up close, without a ton of forgiving make-up and thousands of dollars of couture to cover up her sallow cheeks and protruding rib cage, but many of us hold ourselves up to the images fed to us in magazines and on television anyway, obsessing over the scale and trying desperately to squeeze our voluptuous bodies into the latest trends. I am by no means beyond this myself- despite the fact that every man I have ever spoken to about weight & body type has told me that my curves are HOT HOT HOT, I cry about the triangle bikinis, bandeau shirts and backless dresses I will never be able to pull off. Shopping is a pain until I accept the fact that I simply don’t fit into most shirts, and modify my choices to account for my exaggerated bosom. And I can’t run on the treadmill without a super-duper control-top sports bra with underwire, 4 hooks, and double-reinforced straps…

Now I’ve gone all girly and lost my train of thought. Where were we? Oh yes, types.

I asked a cute guy friend of mine to tell me his type, in the name of research for this post…

He said “female.”

Case closed.