I started wearing a bra in the third grade. We can thank my gene pool for my well-endowed childhood.
It was a rude awakening when, as a shy twelve year old, my first boyfriend had his friends call me while on a sleep over and ask me if I was the one with “big tits.”
I’m pretty sure that was the first time I had ever heard someone refer to boobs as tits and I was naive to assume my little boyfriend actually respected me.
I was already aware of myself in this way; I dressed like a 30 year old. I hid in baggy clothes and was never comfortable with my curves. I was never taught how to be graceful in my body—I was ashamed of what was happening to me.
I’m not much older here, maybe 14 or 15? I had hiding in clothes down to a science. There are few, if any, photos of me in a bathing suit. I almost never wore a shirt that touched me and I bought clothes a size too big because the lift my bust gave a shirt was too revealing.
I loved photography but always knew how to hide in photos or disguise my figure. (Above, I’m wearing a two-piece…but won’t sit high enough for my bust to break water. Below, I knew what to hold, how to sit and how to distract from my figure.)
When I was 14, we tried to get our insurance company on board with allowing me to have a breast reduction. Denied.
So I kept hiding in the types of clothes my mom would wear. I was soccer-momming my wardrobe.
My sister, however, embraced her curves.
We tried again, at 18, to get coverage for the reduction surgery, and this time the insurance company agreed. A double-D bust on my tiny frame had strapped me with back problems, sleeping issues and a degrading low self esteem.
I had a breast reduction.
Hello, Jodi! Welcome to the world … and welcome to your body. For the first time I bought a bra that was not a JCPenny catalog ordered minimizer. In fact, I was able to go to an actual store to try them on! I could even go without a bra if I wanted, or rely on simply a shelf tank for support.
I understood my body for the first time. I liked it. I could dress it.
I finally had self esteem, and it did amazing things for my confidence in the dark. (wink, wink)
I’m a nice even C-cup these days. Of course with weight gain or loss, your bust is one of the affected areas, but I’ve never worn another minimizer (outside of breast-feeding boobs).
And even then, I was still able to comfortably breast feed both of my children exclusively for the first 6 months of their lives.
Before my reduction my nipples were actually underneath my bust, so when you’re cold, the normal response for a female never was a problem for me. But now, things are geographically where they should be, and it’s one of the most embarrassing problems I’ve had to learn how to disguise, yet.
As for losing feeling? Nope. Still got it.
In general, having the surgery was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself and knowing that the possibilities of my daughter’s genes will give her the same shame, I’m willing to bend over backwards to help her through her future decision should it arise.
How do you feel about your bust? Are those curves you’re willing to tamper with? For larger busted women it’s almost always about the comfort of carrying those honkers. It’s heavy. Running and exercising is embarrassing and uncomfortable. As for me, I would do it over again in a heart beat.
Now when I hide in clothes it has nothing to do with the curves below my shoulders and everything to do with the curves sitting above my hips. One problem at a time.
Bring it, curves.
Jodi lives naked on paper writing through her Life List and all that is being married to a serial entrepreneur. A mother to two, Jodi has a passion to inspire women to live outside of titles. She chronicles lists and links of Things To Do, takes way too many photos and dreams of living in one place for longer than 12 months. You can read more from Jodi on her blog, Jodi Michelle.