The Indignities and Discomforts Suffered by Large-Busted Women

The rest of the world needs to stop being judgmental of those of us who hate our incredible endowments. Consider these points about being big-busted:

First, the only thing a guy looks at when he meets you is your chest. He can’t help it; it’s a foot closer to him than the rest of you, and it has its own climate. Even if you wore a bourka, your chest would make its presence known, and no man on earth could see your smile for the twin towers on your torso. It’s disconcerting to meet a modest and unassuming Chasidic Rabbi who is obviously uncomfortable dealing with you because even he, with his focus on a holy life, can’t tear his eyes away from the Grand Tetons. I shudder to think if I met the Pope.

Second, the things are a nuisance and a health hazard. I didn’t find the burning boobs stunt in Mrs. Doubtfire funny, because I’ve lived it. It’s hard to judge where they are, so you accidentally whack them into doorways, brush against people, or lean over and get them wet (or catch them on fire). I accidentally wrote on one of mine the other day and had to go around with a large blue line across the front of my white blouse.

It’s difficult to find a properly fitting brassiere, and even when you do, your boobs weigh so much that they make your back hurt. Perfect posture is a dream. The boobs  pull you over. If you don’t have boobs and you’d like to know how we large-breasted women feel, get a cheap oversized bra and put it on, then pad the cups with your arm and leg weights and wear it all day. By the end of the day, your back will hurt, your shoulders will hurt and have canyons in them from the pull of gravity against the bra straps, and you will find it painful to stand erect rather than slightly hunched forward. Imagine having to go around that way every day, all day long.  

Furthermore, the excess tissue can impede blood flow to your arms in certain positions, pressing on the brachial artery and causing severe pain, tingling in the arms and hands, decreased blood flow to the arms and hands, and discomfort that can be relieved only by raising the arms above the head. Try that maneuver in the next budget meeting and see what kind of looks you get.

Third, I like to sleep on my stomach. You can’t sleep on your stomach with two cantaloupes under your chest. Try it sometime. And if you do sleep on your back but get restless in the night and start tossing, the agony of rolling over on your own boob is unbelievable.

Fourth, normal-proportioned clothing does not fit properly. If it’s a button-up dress or blouse and you can actually get it to button, there’s a gap between the middle buttons of at least an inch, and you dare not move your arms more than 1/2 inch in any direction. Most of the time, you can’t get it to button.  Most big-busted women resort to knit tops and sweaters because they don’t gape and show your underwear, and they are generally more forgiving of movement. But if the knit top clings, you end up with a really bizarre “shelf” effect, where your boobs poke the sweater out, and then the sweater conforms to the curves, practically underscoring your titanic tits for the world.

Fifth, you have to wear bras that look like something out of a medieval torture chamber — or granny’s attic. The little sexy tidbits that the C-and-under crowd can wear will not support or adequately cover the large-breasted women. So she can forget the sexy little $3 number at Wal Mart, or the adorable silk charmeuse bit at Victoria’s Secret. The Wonderbra is right out. The woman “blessed” with torpedo tits has to buy a $80 nightmare with a band large enough to hang yourself with. It usually has underwires that look like bridge trusses and enough boning in the sides to build a prosthetic ribcage for a blue whale. 

Sixth, bathing suits. Bikinis, even tankinis, are impossible. Usually, you end up in a one-piece and a baggy T-shirt, which you don’t dare take off. So much for sweet and sexy on the beach…or at the pool. And speaking of the pool, diving or jumping in are out. First because of the pain, second because of the danger of dislodging your top and emerging from the water with all of your assets displayed to the world.

Those are only some of the problems with large busts. So, if I hate the Twin Towers so much, why don’t I have reduction surgery? First, they won’t let me have the surgery until I lose 20 pounds. Never mind that if they’d cut these darn things off, I’d lose 20 pounds instantly. Second, surgery is expensive, and I am a single mom with one income and two children. It’s a heck of a lot cheaper to buy half a dozen $80 bras a year than to pay $150,000 to remove the reason for the expensive scaffolding.

So lighten up. And guys, look at the eyes. Force yourself. It’ll make us love you.

Tags: humour, True Stories