My great aunt bought me my first bra when I was 11. She gave it to me on my birthday, when I definitely didn't need a bra. All I wanted was my very own set of breasts. I think I believed that a bra would magically make my boobs suddenly appear – and that I would finally be a woman. That definitely did not happen.
I barely fit an A-cup in high school. I used to wish on every star I saw in the sky that I would be blessed with an ample chest, that I could fill out a shirt without two spare pieces of fabric hanging over where my breasts were meant to be. I wanted boobs so badly that I started referring to them as my "hope chest," because I thought if I hoped hard enough they would suddenly just blossom.
While in high school, I realized quickly how flat I was in comparison to my girlfriends. Also, I couldn't escape the pressure I felt from seeing other teenage girls in magazines, TV shows and movies. I sure as hell didn't look like most of them. I looked much younger – especially physically. Every time I complained, my grandma would remind me, "Mine never came in until I was in my 30s." Well, her chest was huge, so I had to have hope, right?
As time went on, I remained confident but still a bit envious, feeling left out whenever my friends were having conversations that I couldn't be a part of. They'd say things like, "I can't run, it huuuurts!" I wanted to know that feeling! (It also sounded like a great excuse to get out of gym). Even complaints like, "I can't sleep on my stomach anymore…" and "He wouldn't stop staring at my boobs" made me – you guessed it – want boobs.
I would make jokes about my flat chest, putting balloons up my shirt during sleepovers to make my friends laugh. I figured I should make fun of myself, rather than feeling sorry about something that I had literally no control over.
But by the time I started college, I was actively trying to come to terms with my little knockers. I learned how to accentuate my other physical attributes. I had nice eyes and hair, and I had a great butt – but I still wished I had boobs.
Sometimes, people would suggest I get a boob job. There was this idea that surgery would 'complete' my body somehow. That I would be 'sexier' or more 'womanly.' But as tempting as it was, I knew I had to love me the way I was. Even though I wanted boobs so badly, I just never saw that as an option for me.
People would suggest I get a boob job. But as tempting as it was, I knew I had to love me the way I was.
So, I learned to take all the confidence I had and found a way to be fully happy with my body. I decided to wear cute tops confidently. I didn't stress about wearing padded bras. In fact, sometimes I didn't even wear a bra! And then something great started to happen: I started to forget all about not having boobs. It was no longer an issue.
Then one day, or gradually, things changed. It seemed to just happen. I noticed little gaps between the buttons of my button-up shirts. I noticed a nice shadow effect happening at the top of my chest, a rounding out – something I had never seen before. Then I noticed that they were jiggling a little as I walked. I yelled to my roommate, "OMG, They jiggle! They jiggle while I jump!"
They continued to grow. It wasn't really attributed to weight gain, either. I started out as a 32A and suddenly was a 32B. And eventually, after a few years, I became a C-cup.
Suddenly, I knew the feeling when guys stared at my chest – and, yes, it quickly became annoying. Since I had glorified boobs for so long, I also started to notice that having them wasn't very different at all.
Sure, having a body part that society glorifies is fun for a while, but then you start to realize that it doesn't really fix or change anything. Today, I know that even if my chest had never grown, I would be alright with it.
It's a beautiful thing to have experienced both sides, to completely understand what it's like to have and have not. Not once did I ever consider plastic surgery. I never wore heavily padded bras. Even if I never had that late growth spurt, I think I would be just as confident today.
And you know what else I realized? It never mattered how flat or full my chest was. I should have never relied on something so insignificant to make me feel like 'more' or 'less' of a woman. It never provided me more or less opportunities. It didn't make me any more or less attractive. It didn't make me more or less capable.
You are damn sexy – no matter what size breasts you have. If you want plastic surgery, go for it. If you prefer to rock your chest au natural, at any size, go for it. You do you. The rest will always fall into place.
