Hi there, I’m here to celebrate my extraordinary boobs.
I proudly possess big boobs, and I won’t deny it…
I have always been very beautiful, different than what is popularly thought of as pretty. I might have considered myself to be captivating in my prime, sometimes in the categories of cute, stylish and even taken as hot or sexy. Nevertheless, pretty has never been a characteristic of mine. My eyes are closely spaced and on the smaller side, and my skin isn’t flawless, boasting numerous freckles. These days, I carry a bit of extra weight, and I can see the inevitable signs of aging, which, while perfectly natural, are simultaneously a little disconcerting for me to observe.
I do possess two traits that align with conventional beauty standards: My hair is luxuriously thick and stunning. I’m blessed with truly exceptional breasts. I’m completely serious — take a moment to admire them!
Hardly ever do I consider praising myself in relation to my appearance, which perhaps is not of the usual habit of feminist women. Nevertheless, this is something I was thinking about, and I decided that admitting publicly about things you like about your looks is a self-care practice and a form of gratitude. It is also a refreshing break letting us not focus on the things we see as flaws and this is especially so when we start getting older and feel like we are being pushed into the background.
And now, then, pray, permit me the luxury of rhapsodizing on my superb boobs.
What makes my breasts so exceptional? I appreciate your curiosity.
At 28 years old, it’s rather remarkable, isn’t it? These boobs have been with me for well over four decades, and miraculously, they’ve defied the usual effects of aging. I can confidently move about without a bra (though I choose not to in public, as I aim not to overwhelm anyone). The freedom to do so is truly liberating. A small one was fed and nurtured by my breasts. The breastfeeding miracle is indeed marvel to look at. You bring a new life and your body can stand up to months of the said life. It is amazing. Nursing was also by far the most incredible experience that I have ever undergone, despite its very demanding and exhausting character. Although I do not miss those days (my kids are teenagers now), I keep those moments in my heart, having a prayer that they that were so long.
They are undeniably huge. To be precise, I’m a 38DDDDD, which technically translates to a 38H. However, it appears that many bra manufacturers and stores tend to capsize at D as if they believe anything beyond that isn’t an improvement. But let me tell you, my assets are generously proportioned, sizzling, and perfectly content to venture to H. They continue to (mostly) challenge the laws of gravity. I mean, considering their size, ‘perky’ may not be the most fitting term, but they maintain their round shape and, for the most part, stand tall. I’m more than content with that.
They hold a special appeal for gay men. I can’t quite put my finger on why, but it’s been a consistent theme throughout my life, with gay men enthusiastically exclaiming from across bars, ‘Your boobs look stunning in that dress!!!’ I usually respond with a modest grin, fully aware that, yes, indeed they do.
They possess significant strength while maintaining their durability which constitutes their essential characteristic. Did you know that one out of every eight women faces breast cancer risk throughout their life span? This alarming number becomes overwhelming for patients who start their annual screening appointments at age 40 and beyond. She expresses gratitude while stating her current breast condition remains healthy although she taps wood to prevent bad luck.
My boobs are on my mind today for a specific reason.
Today, I marked my calendar for my yearly mammogram. It’s not until August, but even the thought of it gives rise to a subtle undercurrent of anxiety in me. And it’s not entirely unwarranted. The first few mammograms were uneventful — I’d walk in, the machine would do its breast-squishing thing, I’d leave, and a few days later, I’d receive the reassuring message that all was well and to return next year. However, that changed when I began receiving concerning readings.
The initial occurrence was in 2016, as the clock struck midnight, an email notification from eCare startled me awake. I reluctantly opened it, revealing a chilling message: ‘Suspicious mass on the right side, further testing required.’ eCare, I must say, has the bedside manner of a grumpy cat. Thankfully, I managed to secure an appointment at our local cancer care center within a few days for an ultrasound.
The result? A sigh of relief, as it turned out to be clear. Then, déjà vu struck, once more via eCare, and the cycle repeated: a scare, followed by the reassuring clarity of the tests. The third meeting was organized in 2020 directly during the COVID-19 pandemic. I was forced to wait through some torturous three weeks of waiting between tests. I consciously strived not to allow my mind to run into the worst of possible scenarios, but they were three painfully long weeks. The results again proved to be clear, and I had a huge relief upon me. It is in this episode that I learned that my breasts are very dense.
This perhaps gives us a clue as to why they remain briskly looking but makes them slightly difficult to read on a mammogram. It is thus, a combination of the good and the not-so-easy-to-read. You also stride over it and go back to see the annual check-up.
The persistent, low-level anxiety I harbor regarding mammograms.
After experiencing those three unsettling false alarms necessitating follow-up visits to the cancer care center, I’ve made an arrangement with my doctor to conduct my mammograms directly at the center, where I receive real-time results. I have an aversion to waiting, so this approach provides immense relief. Nonetheless, when my mind runs out of other things to fret over, it invariably drifts toward that upcoming appointment, even when it’s months in the future. Intrusive thoughts about my breasts. I can’t be the only one who experiences this, can I? This is precisely why I’m composing this rather unconventional piece today. I contacted the cancer center, which means the appointment is now a looming presence in my mind. I’m hoping to preempt any premature anxiety regarding my upcoming mammogram. I fully realize it may seem nonsensical to worry, particularly when so many others have faced the reality of breast cancer, making their appointments far weightier. But anxiety doesn’t always follow the rules of reason.
Today, I’ve decided to counter these worries by acknowledging my profound appreciation for these two splendid, substantial companions who have accompanied me on this journey for over four decades. Thank you, my dear breasts. You’re still as fabulous as ever.
The Bottom Line
In this reflection I have chosen to honor my breast development which has shaped the path of my life. The mysterious charm of breasts to others and the yearly mammogram stress have made them a constant presence in my existence. The ongoing tension I feel about these medical appointments has not stopped me from showing appreciation to my loyal friends who have supported me throughout forty years.
The image shows life delivers both difficult moments and positive experiences at unexpected times. I want to thank my breasts because they have stayed wonderful throughout my entire life.