I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I do actually have a blogging process. Sadly it’s nothing that I specifically do myself. Usually it happens at around midnight or sometimes 2am and my voices (who I shall, from hereon out refer to as “the choir”) go something like this….
TheChoir: you know you wanna blog
Me: yes, yes I do…..
TC: and you have a subject…. something to blog about…
Me: yes, I do….
TC: so blog
Me: it’s 2am…. I want to sleep
TC: tough, if you don’t blog about this subject right now….. we won’t let you sleep
TC: damn straight…
So basically, when I’m trying to chill and sleep The Choir start up with their noise and I think of “the subject” over and over again until I can’t think about anything else and do a mental table flip before getting on my tab and blogging. I won’t lie, they aren’t too happy that their process has been outed, but it’s called tough shit.
On to the actual blog.
Boobs. Yup breasts, bongos, boulders, floodlights….those squishy lumps of fatty tissue, nerves (and some times milk ducts) on our chests. It’s amazing how much confidence they can give or take from you.
I’ve been on both sides of the fence – when I was younger I had bee stings and now I seem to have mountains and I had an epiphany of sorts today…. when I was a young teenager and even an older teenagers when I went out clubbing, I would never go out without a bra on. I wouldn’t even sit around the house without a bra on. This is back when I was an A-C cup. Tops never fitted right, strap tops were too baggy, corset tops were too loose and it was obvious I had something missing that is generally needed to carry off a corset.
Today is the first day I went out without a bra on in…. ever (Since I was big enough to need a bra). I’m wearing a dress which doesn’t sit in line with my bra straps and when I looked in the mirror there was no way I would wear a bright pink or torqoise (I can never spell that word) bra* with a black dress. So off it came without a second thought. Why was I so comfortable doing this now and not back then?
The answer is my bra size. As simple as that. My boobs are quite large and squishy and they fill out my dress, my tops, my corsets and I am no longer self conscious about my clothing being too baggy or showing that I have no breasts. Don’t get me wrong, there are times I wish they were smaller because a start bra shopping would be easier/cheaper, so would swimsuit/bikini shopping and I wouldn’t need to buy tops a size bigger to accommodate “the girls”. Corset shopping is awkward as hell, though not so much recently because I’ve put weight on, trying to get a corset that fits me great in the waist and hips but allows for the girls…..holy crap, not easy.
Have my boobs given me confidence? Hell yes. However they also take it away slightly; because I see where guys eyes go. My boobs can’t hear or answer you back. They seem to hold some magical power to persons of the opposite sex (Seriously women tend not to talk to your boobs, even when they are attracted to you simply because they too, have them….)
As much as I sometimes wish they were smaller, I can only pray I never go through what some women with breast cancer go through when they have one or both removed. I used to think “yeah but they can be rebuilt, remolded and implants used”, I don’t anymore because the realisation hit me that when you think of “a woman” as a sex (as in on the outside, not the inside), you don’t automatically think “vagina” you instantly think “breasts” – or at least I did as a child and did up until I was old enough to realise that some women don’t have boobs, just like some men have vaginas and some women have a penis. I tried to put myself in that mind set of having to have one or both of my breasts removed and it crushed me. Obviously I cannot even begin to really imagine what that must be like, and it is in NO WAY just about the way you look in that situation, however it’s one of the first things that some women think of when they’re told they have to have a single or double mastectomy…. to explain the next part you need some back story….
My mum had cancer (three times), she had an ovary removed, then her womb then half of her thyroid. When she had her uterus removed, she was happy the cancer was being dealt with, but crushed that she’d never have another child with my dad (who is actually my step-dad and they never had any children together….. hence I am an only child). She was upset that part of her woman-hood had to be removed.
So, in the same way, I’m guessing any woman who has had to go through that must be happy that the cancer is being dealt with but upset that part of their woman-hood is being removed. I know that personally, if that ever happened to me (gods forbid) i’d try and stay positive but at the same time my confidence would be knocked terribly because, to be blunt, they’re my boobs!
I’m sorry if this is kinda a ramble or doesn’t flow “properly” or doesn’t make sense, this is just what was in my head. If you understand any part of this then, you’re a trooper! If not, then no hard feelings. Sometimes I find it hard to understand half of what I write.
* currently I only have a torqoise bra and a pink bra in my size (34F WTF??) And I have to shop on ebay and amazon for new ones cuz otherwise they’re about £40 each….. fuck off. I’ve talked about this before so I won’t go in to it again.