Saturday, May 24, 2014

I'd Rather Be Flat

    First, if you are either

  • A male without older sisters
  • An unmarried male, or
  • Someone that is offended by blatant opinion,
    just don't read this post. I mean, you can still read if you want, just remember that this is MY blog and I don't control YOUR eyes. 
    Now that I've said that....

               HOLY CRAP I HATE BOOBS.
    Seriously. I hate them so much, here's a poem:



          Beautiful lumps of fat and nerves
          Only useful for being milked like a cow
          Painful and sore whenever they want to be
          Can I just get them chopped off now?

          Swoobs are a pain for the well-endowed
          Sports bras are impossible to shop for
          Why men are fascinated, I will never understand
          I just want to be a B. Nothing more.



    Now that you all think I'm crazy and slightly obsessed about hating boobs (you're not wrong), let me explain my personal history.
    When I was a freshman in high school, I was a cheerleader. I was very lean, as well as anorexic, and therefore relatively flat. I wasn't disgustingly skinny, but definitely fit and slim. Toward the end of the year, I started eating again and also started birth control (to lessen the damage of endometriosis). In just 5 months, I went from 5'6" 105lbs of muscle and bone to 5'7.5" 138lbs of confused hormones and stretch marks. All of the sudden I was out of my 32B and into a 36C. I had blue lines on my thighs and sides. It was very depressing for my 15 year old self, and I soon went off of the birth control and pursued other treatments. But the boobs, they stayed.
    As high school progressed and I continued exercising, my chest wasn't really a problem. Bra shopping is definitely my least favorite thing, but once I figured out what my new size was, I just dealt with it! I figured out what I liked and didn't like, and resorted to doubling up on the sports bras. Not a big deal!
    Then I graduated.
    Then I got pregnant.
   My sore breasts was actually the first indicator of my pregnancy. My cycle was irregular anyway, so I didn't freak out when I was a week late. But when my boobs were in excruciating pain for 2 weeks, I knew something was up. Little did I know this was only the beginning of my breast dilemma!
    There was no immediate change in my bra size, so I thought I was in the clear! They were sore, but not really changing. Then, the morning sickness stopped. And suddenly my bra didn't fit anymore. I FLIPPED OUT. I didn't want to deal with bras anymore. I was done. I was tired, sore, and soooooo done. And I knew that inevitably, I would keep growing. I put off buying a new bra for 2 months, until I finally couldn't handle being squished into a C. I went to Victoria's Secret and asked to be sized. I anxiously awaited the verdict.


38DD    38DD    38DD    38DD    38DD    38DD    38DD    38DD    38DD    38DD    38DD


    I nearly had a meltdown. No wonder my boobs were blue and purple with stretch marks! The poor things. My poor body! I reluctantly purchased a bra in my new size. I have to admit that it feels pretty dang good, but now I have a new problem.
  Clothing.
    Do you know how hard it is to find maternity clothes that fit my chest but that aren't shaped like potato sacks?! Pretty near impossible. I have a handful of shirts I can wear, and the rest of my clothing consists of stretchy undershirts and cardigans. Either the shirt fits in the top and is super ugly, or fits nicely but basically squeezes my chest to death. This is something I definitely did not foresee when contemplating the months leading to September 8th. 
    Every time my friend states that she's jealous of my bra size, I just shake my head and show her my stretch marks. Ladies, having a huge chest is NOT fun. It's not easy. It hurts. And I'd rather be flat.

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