Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I am a well-endowed girl. Always have been. I never struggled with little-girly training bras or had that awkward does she/doesn’t she need one? stage. I went to bed flat-chested one night and woke up with C cups.
It was embarrassing when I was younger. I always had the biggest boobs of anyone in my class. In the middle of seventh grade, we moved from Indiana to Colorado…I’ll never forget that first gym class. My mom had oh-so-thoughtfully written my name across the front of my shirt. We were running in gym and a BOY ran up beside me and introduced himself. When I told him my name, he said, “I see that,” his head bobbing up and down with the writing on my shirt. I was mortified.
Once I started high school, things improved because most of the other girls finally had them, too. There were still problems…In choir my sophomore year, we had to wear tuxedo shirts. Um, hello? Girls are not made to wear tuxedo shirts. Shopping for prom dresses was a chore, too.
Ugh. Boobs. Women who don’t have them want them, but girls who have them know they’re more trouble than their worth.
Finding bras that fit has been next to impossible. I never wore the right size. I was spilling out all over the place…it was not pretty. Finally, I went to get measured and discovered what I hoped I wouldn’t. I was a 46G. Woah.
My chest accessories have long been a hazard in the gym. They often served as my excuse not to exercise, until I learned that double bagging it is the only way to go. Still, even under wraps, they regularly pose problems.
I was having trouble with triceps exercises during Body Pump one night and Turbo Jennie came over to assist me. She told me to keep my elbows closer to my ribs. “I can’t,” I whispered. “My boobs are too big.” Ha! Not a defense she would accept. During my birthday turbo round we were shaking it, and she yelled over the music, “Birthday Girl, put those things away!!!” During a Hip Hop class, we were dipping and shimmying and she looked over her shoulder and asked me, “You don’t even have to try, do you?” Ah, yes, my breasts are a frequent topic of conversation and cause for consternation.
Most recently—yesterday, to be more specific—I had a little trouble in PiYo. The class is an athletic offering of pilates and yoga and is guaranteed to get me sweaty and swearing. I love it and I hate it…it is HARD, but awesome and I am loving the changes I’ve seen in myself since I started taking it. Last week, we started a new round and Jennie demonstrated the shoulder stand.
I watched her with wide eyes, shaking my head, thinking to myself, I can’t do that. There’s no way. But I tried it (because she made me)…and I did it! I was amazed with myself and very excited. This week, I knew it was coming and I was ready for it. The first time, I executed it with no problems. The second time, however, was a little more difficult.
I was a little overzealous in getting my legs in the air and almost fell over. I managed to stabilize myself, but my knockers—defying two sports bras and two tank tops, but not, it seems, gravity—slid forward, into my face, smothering me. There were several seconds where I struggled to catch my breath as I actually choked on my own boobs. After I shoved everything back into place, I tried a repeat performance, but by then, I was giggling too much to hold the pose. (It did not help that a girl next to me fell over right after that. Jennie scolded us for having fun.) Of course, I had to share with her the reason for my laughter after class. Nothing like ending the night with a mouthful of mammary.
In the 20 years or so that my weight has been yo-yoing, I have very rarely lost in my chest…yet, it was always one of the first place I gained. So it seemed I just kept getting bigger. This time around was different. The weight loss was noticeable in my face, first…but then my boobs started shrinking.
In the last year, I’ve dropped about a million bra sizes. Okay, not a million, but it sure feels that way. (As Jennie pointed out, it just goes to show that they’re only fat. Sorry, boys.) Don’t get me wrong, I still have plenty of boobs to go around. (I often offer them to other, “less fortunate” women. I only wish it was that easy.) I’m hoping that this is a good sign…another thing on my list that tells me that this time the last time I have to struggle with my weight.
October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. (No way, right?) Ladies, whatever size your jugs are, remember to do a self exam once a month, see a doctor for a breast screening once a year, and get a mammogram yearly after age 35 or 40, depending on risk factors. Also, visit this website daily and click to give free mammograms to women in need.