The boobs of my existence
Have you ever dressed up and felt beautiful, really beautiful, only to see the pictures later and wonder how you thought that because picture after picture actually shows you looking fat and full of, well, in my case, boobage?
These boobs have been the bane of my existence ever since I got them. I was that girl, the first girl in school to wear a bra. I got the dirty letters passed to me by the class delinquent. I got the thrilling job of trying to dress like a modest, religious teenager with incredible boobs. I've been told, on more than one occasion, that someone thought that I was fat before they met me in person because my pictures make me look fat because I have these big boobs. If you take a picture of me from the chest up it is apparently assumed I am a fat girl. Actually, I just have lots of boob.
Now, lest you think I'm crazy, always wish you had them and are now considering a breast implant operation, try fitting these DD's in modest, garment covering, formal wear. Formal wear, by the way, is usually specifically made to show off cleavage. In fact it is damn near impossible to find formal wear that does not show your assets in that region of the body.
So I went all over town looking for a gown for a special occasion that was modest, form-flattering, elegant, garment covering and somehow would cover these babies and fit me well. Thought I had done a pretty good job in the end. Thought I looked great, too.
So I get home and look at the pictures. I look fat and booby!
I would say it's time for a diet but to be honest I've done that. I've even run a half marathon and remained the same weight. So sometimes I think I should just accept my curves (and mountains) and accept that I am possibly not ever going to be as slim as some girls. In my wildest thoughts I imagine I'm more like a Marilyn and channel Joan Holloway (Mad Men). I think I should accept that and welcome it and love it.
But then I see those pictures. The ones I thought I looked so great in. And there they are, staring right at me. Boobs!
These boobs have been the bane of my existence ever since I got them. I was that girl, the first girl in school to wear a bra. I got the dirty letters passed to me by the class delinquent. I got the thrilling job of trying to dress like a modest, religious teenager with incredible boobs. I've been told, on more than one occasion, that someone thought that I was fat before they met me in person because my pictures make me look fat because I have these big boobs. If you take a picture of me from the chest up it is apparently assumed I am a fat girl. Actually, I just have lots of boob.
Now, lest you think I'm crazy, always wish you had them and are now considering a breast implant operation, try fitting these DD's in modest, garment covering, formal wear. Formal wear, by the way, is usually specifically made to show off cleavage. In fact it is damn near impossible to find formal wear that does not show your assets in that region of the body.
So I went all over town looking for a gown for a special occasion that was modest, form-flattering, elegant, garment covering and somehow would cover these babies and fit me well. Thought I had done a pretty good job in the end. Thought I looked great, too.
So I get home and look at the pictures. I look fat and booby!
I would say it's time for a diet but to be honest I've done that. I've even run a half marathon and remained the same weight. So sometimes I think I should just accept my curves (and mountains) and accept that I am possibly not ever going to be as slim as some girls. In my wildest thoughts I imagine I'm more like a Marilyn and channel Joan Holloway (Mad Men). I think I should accept that and welcome it and love it.
But then I see those pictures. The ones I thought I looked so great in. And there they are, staring right at me. Boobs!
Comments
BTW, I had a friend who struggled with her weight (not as skinny as you) her whole life and even when she did down to the size she felt looked normal, her giant boobs (seriously, I'm a pro at guessing cup size but hers were OFF the charts!) wouldn't go away. Eventually she got them reduced to the C or D range and she felt and looked amazing, ie lost that initial impression you were talking about.
Truth be told, I think that impression is more likely to be implied when people try to layer and cover them up. If you choose to cover (not that you aren't more of an export on this than I am!), stick to one, think layer as much as possible, such as a cashmere or stretchy cotton. Silky and other shiny things tends to make things look bigger and rounder than they really are.
Oh, and live up the boobs while you have them! If you ever breastfeed, you will probably lose God gave you. :)
I think I've finally just accepted what i look like... thunder-thighs and all. The only reason we're so down on ourselves is because of unrealistic model expectations. There's no reason to do that to ourselves... we waste too much time not being happy with what we look like.
You look great - accept it. Our boobs are big, and yeah, we can't pull off a lot of outfits, but on the upside we can pull off outfits that flat girls can't. haha..
Also, Karen, thank you...and you are a gorgeous mama.