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> small breast support group - (I need it even if they don't)
Vendetta
post Sep 2 2008, 09:23 AM
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Has anyone made a point about self-image or body image or is it that these kind of problems only occur because "society dictates"? I think everyone has to feel good for themselves and living a life against "society standards" isn't going to leed anyone anywhere?
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thirtiesgirl
post Sep 1 2008, 11:21 PM
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QUOTE(karategrrl @ Aug 31 2008, 08:05 PM) *
thirties girl:
I am personally very much against weight-loss surgery. I work in health care and know only too well what is involved in the surgery. Basically, the surgeon is messing with nature's design of how we are supposed to get nutrients to feed our bodies. I personally know two people who have had the surgery, and both are just as heavy as before, 2 and 5 years afterwards. The only thing is, they can't EVER eat normally again and cannot reverse the surgery. The surgery changed their bodies, but the real issue--eating and exercise habits were not properly addressed, and therefore the procedure, in the end, failed.

The issue at hand, I feel, is the same one as with breast augmentation--the surgery changes the body when it is the psyche that needs the support.

Well said, karategrrl, and molerat, too. You both make some very valid points and I'm glad you put some thought into your answers. This is the kind of discussion I was trying to spark.


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kittenb
post Sep 1 2008, 06:53 PM
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QUOTE
My point in bringing this up is to disagree with your assessment that 'weight loss can improve health and longevity,' and bring the focus back to my question, which is can we apply the same standards of judgment to small chested women who get implants and fat women who lose weight? Let's leave the 'losing weight can lead to better health' argument out of it, if possible, because most of the fat girls know that argument is bunk.


I would like to make a response to this but I think I am going to take it to the "Take it outside' thread b/c it might be off-topic for here.


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nakedmolerat
post Sep 1 2008, 11:00 AM
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Thirtiesgirl- You're right that "normal weight" people can have the same health risks as "overweight" people. That is because "researchers at the Mayo Clinic are suggesting that THIN people can still have HIGH BODY FAT percentages inside of their bodies which puts them too at risk of heart disease and the other diseases and conditions that affect overweight and obese people". So obviously you can't judge how healthy a person is by their weight, because there are thin people with excess body fat. Just because someone is thin does not mean that they eat right and exercise!!!! But the point is that high body fat is never good for the body.

I don't understand how you could disagree with what I said about eating right and exercising increasing health and longevity. It's beneficial for everyone- big or small. Even if you don't have heart disease or other conditions, it's good for preventing disease and releasing stress and for psychological health. So I can't be critical of people who lose weight in the process of doing what is best for their minds and bodies. I can, however, admire their strength because it's not always easy to stick to a healthy diet and exercise regime.

As for your analogy, I agree with how you feel about surgical options (unless they are morbidly obese and in a life threatening situation), and how you're comparing them to implants- especially things like liposuction/tummy tucks/etc.

I, however, disagree with your point about sex workers getting implants- of course it's done for cosmetic reasons!!! Even if they were happy with their smaller chests, they're still feeding into the beauty (cosmetic) standards that say a woman needs to look one way to be sexy. Yeah, you're right, they're doing it for their career, but THEIR CAREER IS BUILT ON COSMETICS.

But, still, I think the take home point was being happy with ourselves, and to stop expending energy being bitter about "traitors", and to put that energy towards taking care of ourselves. Also, that everyone has the right to make their own choices, even if their choices aren't the same as the ones we would make for ourselves.
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Queen Bull
post Sep 1 2008, 12:37 AM
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*delurks*

OMG, you GO karategrrl, i cant stand pricks like that. its such a sexist double standard thing to do. let me know if u decide to make that shirt.. we could start a movement.... XD

*relurks.*


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karategrrl
post Aug 31 2008, 10:05 PM
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Wowee, so much going on here!

Vendetta:
Interesting article. It sounds like a happy ending, but I wonder what the author will say in a few years, and if she develops any complications, and how she feels when she must get them replaced. I do truly hope she stays healthy, and happy with her decision, and you as well. I invite you to stay in touch with us as you journey on your path.

ailurophile:
Puffy nips: I like them, or large nips anyway. Honestly, one of the reasons why I'd like larger breasts is 'cause maybe they'd stretch my nips a little larger. tongue.gif I just have a thing for large/puffy nips. As far as I'm concerned, it's all about the nipples, hee hee.

Crinoline:
I'm totally with ya, sister, on your surgery comments: "Aren't we supposed to be supporting small breasts and those who wear them (hopefully with pride)? I do agree with thirties in that I feel betrayed by women who decide to buy into the garbage they're being fed and get breast implants. I feel that it is a subtle form of ritualistic body mutilation and mortification of a natural body shape. I think every woman who gets breast implants is pushing the progress of her small breasted (former) sisters back a bit.
With each surgery, the false assertion that there is only one body ideal is supported and promoted. We (all women) need to work on addressing the real problem of oppression, rather than the symptom of body dissatisfaction."


thirties girl:
I am personally very much against weight-loss surgery. I work in health care and know only too well what is involved in the surgery. Basically, the surgeon is messing with nature's design of how we are supposed to get nutrients to feed our bodies. I personally know two people who have had the surgery, and both are just as heavy as before, 2 and 5 years afterwards. The only thing is, they can't EVER eat normally again and cannot reverse the surgery. The surgery changed their bodies, but the real issue--eating and exercise habits were not properly addressed, and therefore the procedure, in the end, failed.

The issue at hand, I feel, is the same one as with breast augmentation--the surgery changes the body when it is the psyche that needs the support.


Okay, now for my story, which could be REALLY long but I'll try to keep it short:
Hubby and I are building a house. I go into a lighting supply store the day before yesterday (one that is frequented by electricians) and, under the glass on the counter, are SEVERAL pretty explicit girly photos--a display which is, apparently, the work of one of the clerks. I cannot tell you how uncomfortable I felt talking about recessed lighting and ordering stuff while trying not to "notice" the tits, asses, and snatches right under my nose (shit, Stevie Wonder could've seen that, fer chrissakes)!

The young clerk who helped me (who was pretty damn incompetent, actually) kept nervously laughing. When I commented on the photos, he told me "You'd be surprised...a lot of the guys who come in here come in just for the pictures!" As if: 1) this should surprise me; 2) I should be very impressed at their unusually innovative marketing tactics.

What got me is the kid kept laughing, and when it turned into an out-and-out guffaw, it put me over the edge. I told him it wasn't funny, to stop laughing, and that he didn't know what it was like. (I don't know if he got that, but I was referring to a lifetime of experiences where: 1) I have been regarded as a walking pussy, existing only for male pleasure; 2) men being so conditioned and ignorant to where they have no concept that posting near-porn pics in a place of business might <gasp> actually be inappropriate, and c) having no clue whatsoever how uncomfortable it feels to have tasteless girlie photos thrust under my chin).

Furthermore, it was going to be cold day in hell before this little pimplefaced barely-20-something was going to tell ME how it was. So, he got scared and disappeared after I told HIM how it was, and then I complained to the manager, who looked like he'd been totally caught pants-down. (That in itself was pretty satisfying.) I told him I didn't need to see that garbage, it was unprofessional and inappropriate, and if it didn't stop I wasn't going to bring my business there anymore. He apologized and I thought I might actually get somewhere until he said, "Well, we actually try to keep it pretty tame." At that moment I realized I was dealing with someone on pretty much the same level as pimplehead motherfucker (pardon my French), and I said, "Well, I'd hate to see what THAT would be like," and I stormed out.

I cried all the way to the house--for all the times I'd been made to feel like shit over stuff just like that, for the crap women have to endure as we are made to feel like we must fit some asinine "tits and ass" sterotype and, most of all, for the sheer exasperation and frustration that comes with trying to communicate to a bunch of ignorant, self-centered assholes a concept that they will never truly understand or empathize with, and knowing that they probably just laughed it off and thought I was just some crazy femi-nazi prude with a stick up her ass. I AM glad I said something, though, at least for my own satisfaction. Also, the fact that maybe the kid MIGHT--just maybe--ponder what I meant by "what it's like." I bet treating women as anything BUT sex objects is a totally foreign concept to him.

I am seriously considering getting an iron-on T-shirt kit, finding a good porn pic on the internet of a naked guy with rippling abs and great pecs, holding his 9-inch erect pecker, and making a T-shirt out of it that I will wear if and when I have to return to that store. Then we'll see who feels uncomfortable....

Sorry, ladies, as this isn't exactly "small breast support," but it IS these pictorials that I feel contribute to us feeling like we are somehow deficient and need to be "fixed," and also the increasingly warped perceptions of every new generation of young men.
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neurotic.nelly
post Aug 30 2008, 09:11 PM
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QUOTE(thirtiesgirl @ Aug 30 2008, 03:56 PM) *
back to my question, which is can we apply the same standards of judgment to small chested women who get implants and fat women who lose weight? Let's leave the 'losing weight can lead to better health' argument out of it, if possible, because most of the fat girls know that argument is bunk.

If we are talking about having your stomach stapled to lost weight and getting breast implants, I think, women of that same group do judge them as "fill in the blank". It's like a slap in the face. It says that you are not good enough for yourself and we are not good enough in your eyes either. And to that I say, "KICK ROCKS!" We don't need more women validating body mutilation, self-harm, and self-loathing.


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crinoline
post Aug 30 2008, 06:56 PM
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I know you don't want it brought up, thirties, but the fact is that healthy reasonable weight loss is usually beneficial in some way. I understand that you are talking about size acceptance and I'm all for that. Some people will always be a certain size no matter what they do, and that's okay. Everyone is beautiful in their own way.

However, I don't think that the analogy is valid. Natural weight loss is hopefully gradual and ultimately beneficial. Breast implants are an invasive operation that always (yes, always - implants must be changed at least every ten years - that's several major surgeries over a lifetime) has a negative impact on health. I think the only way the argument could find some solid ground would be the comparison of stomach stapling and breast implants. Both of these procedures are performed in alarming numbers, often on individuals who don't need them. (IMO, no one needs breast implants) I can see where you're going, but the analogy is faulty.

I've been a little hurt by all of the pro-implant talk around here lately. Isn't this a small breast support group? Aren't we supposed to be supporting small breasts and those who wear them (hopefully with pride)?
I do agree with thirties in that I feel betrayed by women who decide to buy into the garbage they're being fed and get breast implants. I feel that it is a subtle form of ritualistic body mutilation and mortification of a natural body shape. I think every woman who gets breast implants is pushing the progress of her small breasted (former) sisters back a bit.
With each surgery, the false assertion that there is only one body ideal is supported and promoted. We (all women) need to work on addressing the real problem of oppression, rather than the symptom of body dissatisfaction.

ok. I won't get all the way up on my soapbox. I need to go have a nap ... with my boy who adores my natural and small breasts.


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thirtiesgirl
post Aug 30 2008, 05:56 PM
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Molerat, I appreciate your words about being happy with who we are and trying to remain non-judgmental. And like you, I will often consider a person's reasons for making a change in their physical appearance before pronouncing judgment (or at least I try to). That said, though, it's actually been proven in many studies that extra weight is not the cause of so many 'health issues' the popular media would like us to believe. Medical studies have proven that at least half of the people considered 'overweight' have normal blood pressure and cholesterol levels, while an equal number of trim people suffer from some of the ills associated with extra weight. It's also been proven in countless studies that extra weight does not lead to heart and kidney failure, as we've so often been told by the popular media. In a 2007 study of nearly 6,900 male veterans assessed for heart disease, those who were considered 'obsese' were less likely to die over the next 7.5 years, compared with 'normal-weight' men.

My point in bringing this up is to disagree with your assessment that 'weight loss can improve health and longevity,' and bring the focus back to my question, which is can we apply the same standards of judgment to small chested women who get implants and fat women who lose weight? Let's leave the 'losing weight can lead to better health' argument out of it, if possible, because most of the fat girls know that argument is bunk.

I'd also argue that breast implants are not always done for cosmetic reasons. For girls who work in the sex or entertainment industries, breast implants can help their career. It's certainly not a reason I agree with, but I'd be willing to bet there's a sex worker or two out there who was perfectly happy with her small breasts, but got the implants to give her a leg up (so to speak) in the market.


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nakedmolerat
post Aug 30 2008, 01:18 PM
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Hey thirtiesgirl- (i'm a small busted girl even through pregnancy) the main difference i see between the heavy people losing weight and the small boobed people getting implants is that losing weight (provided it is a healthy weight loss done in a healthy way) is that there are many cases where weight loss can improve health and longevity, whereas I don't see any health benefits to implants. As far as I'm concerned, implants are purely cosmetic, with potential health risks rather than benefits involved, whereas at least eating right and exercising is great for the body even if it is done only for vanity. As far as people using unhealthy means/quick fixes to lose weight for primarily cosmetic reasons- I can understand that comparison. I guess in my opinion, the motives and methods can make a difference in how much I respect someone. But I think the more important issue you touched on was being happy with yourself and not judging others, regardless of how damn hard that can be!!!
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honeybunch
post Aug 30 2008, 11:08 AM
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Ooops well they didn't look so big in the movie. lol I guess maybe cuz I'm an a cup
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thirtiesgirl
post Aug 30 2008, 10:32 AM
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A question from a fat girl with big boobs (if you'll pardon the intrusion): I've been reading the last few posts, and I totally get where you guys are coming from with the feelings of anger at small busted women who get implants. I used to feel that way about fat people who lost weight...and to a certain extent, I sometimes still do. It's almost like they're a 'traitor' to the body type, and I have feelings of "how could you?", "can't you just like your body for what it is?", etc. But I eventually realized that the people who lost weight did it because they felt it was right for them. They were tired of gasping for air when they climbed up stairs, walked three blocks or whatever. And now I try to let that bitterness go, that they did it and I haven't.

Now, admittedly, I'm not going to feel the same way about someone who achieved weight loss through stomach stapling surgery. That's the sucker's way out, as far as I'm concerned, although I can understand how it's helpful for people who are considered morbidly obese. I feel the same way about diet pills and powders. If you're losing weight by ingesting drugs or substances that can be harmful for your body in other ways, you're no hero of mine. But I try to be supportive of people who have lost weight by changing their eating and exercise habits, and I'll even go so far as to try and be supportive if they have the help of Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig. It's a personal choice, and I don't really feel like it's my place to judge.

Now, FINALLY, to my question: how do you ladies feel about what I wrote above, when it comes to your issues with small boobed women getting implants? Does it resonate with you, or seem completely off base? ...Admittedly, the big difference between small boobed women getting implants and people losing weight through diet and exercise (and maybe the help of a weight loss program) is the surgery. Obviously, ya can't just grow big boobs once you're past the age of 16. So the surgery does play a factor. These women are having unnatural substances implanted in their bodies to achieve the look they want. ...But it's still a personal choice, is it not? We can't really judge them for making a choice that's different from our own...or can we? Are they 'traitors' for getting implants, and are fat people who lose weight 'traitors' to the rest of us who haven't? I'm interested to hear what you think and where you stand on the issue.


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Vendetta
post Aug 30 2008, 09:52 AM
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Honeybunch: I'm with ailurophile on that: they're huge. They're at least an A cup and that's big for me.

ailurophile: yep, I've made my mind about implants. Of course I'm gonna be sad if someone loves my plastic boobs but at least I'll be happy with myself. Being sad cause they don't like my flat chest or being sad cause they love my implants it's pretty much the same thing. I just don't think about it cause I won't do it for nobody besides me and I'm pretty sure I'll end up feeling like they're really mine. I wish I could feel voluptuous like you do, but I cannot. I am not voluptuous naked and don't feel like it. I wish I could think like you all do, but I cannot. I'm not willing to feel like this during a big part of my life, life's too short. I'm taking the cowards way wink.gif I hope I can be supported too at this thread for my decision, it's gonna take a while until surgery, probably a year or more. I admire and support your thoughts and decisions no matter what. You've been my therapy.
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ailurophile
post Aug 30 2008, 08:21 AM
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Thanx to you girls, I have already felt a bit of improvement since we’ve “met”. Many times during sex, I feel sexy and actually voluptuous and when it is over and I am back to reality, I cry and go into a deep state of embarrassment and depression. My new bo and I had a wonderful night last night….and this morning! ….as usual but this was different. I felt sexy and enjoyed every moment. When it was over, several hours later, I felt... okay. I didn’t cry, I didn’t get upset. But I thought of you girls often. Yes, I thought of you during my special moment last night! Your influence made my little 32 less than B’s feel “smokin' hot”. It isn't over yet though. I gotta say I’m still bitter but your support has helped me feel better about myself. Thanx for being here!

Vendetta: It sounds like you really want them and that story has confirmed your feelings. You should do what will make you happy.

QUOTE
I had seen this woman many times before, and noticed that we shared the same body type: tall, thin, and completely flat-chested. But now the change beneath her spandex top was impossible to miss. She had been supersized. She had gotten a boob job. And I felt as if I were the last small-breasted woman at the East Bank Club.


That’s exactly how I would feel. Shouldn’t we be supporting each other and our “rare breed”?? I am not only jealous of girls with breasts but I am also jealous of girls with implants. I worked with a girl about 10+ years ago who was about my size and got implants. It felt like a slap in the face. I, too, had that feeling of the last small-breasted woman. I feel this way, even though I’ve considered implants so many times. Previously I’ve mentioned my fears about implants gone wrong as well as the fact that I don’t want someone loving my breasts which aren’t really mine. I think that would be a terrible feeling of my man slobbering all over my plastic boobs instead of loving my natural yet tiny breasts. Yet, I still think about implants. What’s wrong with me? “I went to war with myself in a battle between feminism and femininity.” I’m fighting that war but I’m rooting for feminism.

Karategrrl: Are puffy nipples supposed to be sexy? In some porn, it seems they are supposed to be but I don’t like them. Mine are a little on the puffy side and I always thought there was something wrong with me. I also thought it was because I’m so small. Is this a normal turn on?

Honeybunch: Not sure what you’re looking at. They’re HUGE!!!


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honeybunch
post Aug 30 2008, 07:15 AM
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QUOTE(Vendetta @ Aug 26 2008, 11:50 AM) *
ETA, I almost NEVER go into the small bust thread. It makes me feel bad about myself because there is a lot of harshness there. Somehow it hurts more when another woman calls you a slut/disrespects you simply because you have big boobs.

I took that from the large forum. Auch. She may not be reading the same forum I've been.


Okay am I gonna have to go back and read this whole thread???

ETA:
My breasts looked very fake and airbrushed when they swelled with milk. It looked like I had an obvious boob job.
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honeybunch
post Aug 30 2008, 07:12 AM
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Hey fellow small busties!!! Last night I was watching Live and Let Die featuring a very young and thin Jane Seymour with smallish breasts. First thing I thought about was yall!

Enjoy!



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crinoline
post Aug 29 2008, 10:10 PM
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As for pregnancy effect - my mother went from a AA to a C from her first pregnancy and then went up a little more with each subsequent pregnancy.
I don't know if that's very common, but it's happened to several women in my family. So it's definitely possible.


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karategrrl
post Aug 29 2008, 09:51 PM
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GREAT story about your legs, strongirl!!

I, too, am confused about the Gwen photots. The one where she's flashing could be retouched. Look carefully, and Tony Canal's got his cock out (lower-left hand corner of the pic). I know the drummer has a thing for being naked, but I never took the whole band to be that way. However...in the other shot, that sure looks real. Did pregnancy do that? CAN pregnancy do that? I've heard most moms complain about "deflation" after birth/breastfeeding. Whether they're real or not, they do look great. In the "flashing" photo, that's pretty much what I'd like on my chest (and with puffier nipples, I'd be ecstatic)!! laugh.gif

When I have more time, I MUST share a great story from today....to be continued....
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Vendetta
post Aug 29 2008, 12:22 PM
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I found this on the Internet. Thought I'd share smile.gif I'm sorry that it is huge!


I had 2.4 miles to go on the treadmill when she sauntered down the aisle of the health club. How could she have? I wondered, fixing her with a glare. I had seen this woman many times before, and noticed that we shared the same body type: tall, thin, and completely flat-chested. But now the change beneath her spandex top was impossible to miss. She had been supersized. She had gotten a boob job. And I felt as if I were the last small-breasted woman at the East Bank Club.
Sixteen years earlier, my mother had dragged me into the local intimate apparel shop to be fitted for a training bra. Oooh, honey, soon you’ll come in here for bras my size! trilled a saleswoman with pendulous breasts. But as time went on, my bosoms never filled anything more than a 32 A-cup. Apparently, they were untrainable.
While my breasts never did develop, my attitude toward them changed depending on things as arbitrary as clothing styles and seasons, and as earth-shattering as male attention and popularity. They remained a source of unhappiness and anxiety, deeply embedded in my sense of my femininity. Last year, just before I turned 28, I did something about them; I got implants. This is a choice I share with hundreds of thousands of other women. Some of these women are married, with loving husbands, but I suspect that many, like me, are single. And l bet that many of them once shared my disdain for the idea of getting implants. No two case histories are alike, but this is the story of what brought me around.
* * *
For the first two years of high school, I was on an even playing field with the rest of the girls in my class. By senior year, however, my playing field remained level while theirs had sprouted hills. One day at the bar I was told I had the breasts of a thirteen-year-old. After that, I stopped buying bras in my size. Keep in mind, this was long before the words Wonder bra and water bra were part of my lingerie vernacular, and padded bras in my size did nothing for my chest but protect it from flying objects. So I started buying larger bras, thinking the extra fabric created the illusion of more volume. Until a surprise bear hug would crumple my chest like a collapsed soufflé.
In college, I faced the tribulations of dating with the added burden of raging insecurity about my body. I was built like a little boy and competing for male attention with girls three times my size in all the places that mattered. My one saving grace was that it was the heyday of the J. Crew look, and with it came a hundred ways to camouflage a figure flaw, from draping a sweater just so over the shoulders, say, to wearing two bras at once.
This is where I wish I could say that I wised up after college. It would be nice to proclaim that I realized breasts could not make me a woman, or that beauty issued from within and bore no relation whatsoever to cup size. But I was repulsed by how I looked in clothes without a little help; I felt less than a woman, somehow a failure when images of women’s breasts bombarded my senses, from the Statue of Liberty to Sesame Street’s Susan.
The ink was barely dry on my college diploma when I was hired as an editorial assistant for a women’s magazine in New York. For my first assignment, I was asked to write a variation on the theme that women’s magazines peddle like junk food: what men really want. I was to troll Upper East Side bars over two separate weekends to see how many men I could attract. I would wear racy little ensembles of tight-fitting tops and leather pants. The variable would be the size of my breasts.
On the first weekend, I went out unenhanced, and by the end had been asked out by two men. Not bad, I thought. The next week, I went to the same bars wearing the same ensemble, but this time I fortified my bra with silicone inserts that looked suspiciously like raw chicken cutlets. With my enhanced silhouette, four men bought me drinks, four asked for my number, and one composed a song for me on the spot. I was thrilled by the attention, but crushed by what it signified.
I never did give those cutlets back to my editor, and soon they went everywhere I did. After a while, I realized I couldn’t stop wearing them, for fear that someone might notice the drastic change beneath my shirt. This was especially tricky with new lovers; when they met me, I was a full B cup; when they saw me naked, I was barely an A. It was blatantly false advertising. But the solution to my problem seemed worse than the problem itself.
* * *
When I first considered breast implants in the early nineties, they were still unsafe and looked like overfilled water balloons. Later, when buying breasts became as common as getting a manicure, I was too scared to admit I wanted to do what I had judged other women so harshly for. There was also the bimbo factor to consider. Would a big rack diminish my credibility as a professional? Besides, I didn’t have enough money to finance the procedure, and no means of getting it.
Throughout my 20s, measuring 104 pounds at five feet seven, I believed I was doomed to remain slightly built. So I decided to play to my strengths. Thus began my love of Lilliputian clothes: Tight pants, tiny tops, micromini skirts, and baby T-shirts made up my wardrobe: folded neatly, they could all fit in a shoebox. I was going for an optical illusion; the smaller the clothes, the larger my breasts would seem (or so I thought). I’m pretty sure I looked like a tramp in those years, but I was aching to feel feminine and thought I had found a way.
With the advent of self-help books, I vowed to date only men who loved my body’s flaws and all. Which was ironic, because I didn’t love my body at all. Not a single boyfriend lived up to my magical standards, and I spent six years on what felt like one long bad date. In search of reassurance, I would dissect every look, every move, every gesture my lovers made, and see or imagine I’d seen disapproval. None of them gave me the self-esteem I was looking for. It had to come from within, I realized, but I hadn’t the faintest idea of how to find it.
Then came a man who fell in love with my intellect and sense of humor (OK, so before he went for my mind he had seen me at the gym and lusted after my body). With him, I found a new inner strength and calm.
Then, due to some menstrual problems, my doctor prescribed me a different birth control pill. In two months, my barely A’s went to a sore but full A. I was thrilled. I started shopping for clothes and sexy lingerie, the one I was never able to wear before. The bras actually touched my skin, the bikinis looked better and my sex drive went crazy. I felt like a million bucks. I put on some weight and the strange part was, I kind of liked the new hips. No longer boyish, they looked adult and feminine.

Five months later they shrunk. What happened? I changed BC pills five times, I think I actually tried all of them available on the market. Nothing happened. The bras didn’t fit anymore. They weren’t even sore anymore. The clothes didn’t fit that good anymore. I didn’t feel feminine anymore. After five birth control pills and having to give away all my new clothes, I fell into depression. I was lopsided with the torso of a Girl Scout and the hips of a troop leader.
After a few weeks of weedy salads and pasty diet shakes, I realized it was time to resurrect The Question: Should I have my breasts done? I asked my boyfriend one night as I finished a burrito he had almost thrown in the trash. His eyes widened as he tried to disguise his enthusiasm. I love your body, but I would definitely support your decision to do it; he said. The discussion went no further that night, but he did fall asleep with what looked to me like a smile on his face.
Almost everyone was in favor of the surgery. The only naysayers were a few friends with uncomfortably large breasts, and one Christian Scientist. I went to war with myself in a battle between feminism and femininity. Did artificially enhancing myself mean I was nothing more than a victim of societal programming? Would I lose credibility as an intelligent woman? Did I really want to go the rest of my life not knowing what it was like to have cleavage? Did I really want to go the rest of my life not knowing what it was like to have breasts?
In the end, I couldn’t shake the notion that larger breasts would make my hips look more proportionate. I couldn’t stop fantasizing about strapless dresses, tank tops, and fitted shirts. Mostly, I craved the experience of looking and feeling feminine at the same time.
I found my surgeon by calling the Northwestern Medical Faculty Foundation, and promptly made an appointment for a consultation. My boyfriend and I then scoured men’s magazines for body types like mine and shopped the Victoria’s Secret catalog for breasts instead of bras. Not surprisingly, his taste veered toward the amply endowed, while I favored more petite ladies.
Just a B cup. That’s all I wanted. An enhancement so subtle that no one could tell I’d gone under the knife. You’ll go bigger, my friends predicted. But they knew nothing, I thought. I was a journalist and didn’t think a stripper-size set of bosoms would go over too well during interviews with clergy and politicians.
The morning of my consultation I sat in the doctor’s exam room tapping my foot nervously as my boyfriend paced a hole in the linoleum. Finally, the surgeon entered. Well, now, you certainly are a candidate for breast augmentation; he exclaimed as I stood before him, naked to the waist. Next, he photographed my bare chest and downloaded the digital image into his computer.
Holy crap, my breasts are so small! I blurted.
Next, it was time to pick a size for my new and improved body. The doctor digitally cut and pasted other patients’ breasts onto the picture of my torso to give me an idea of what different sizes would look like on me. By the time I had decided on a C cup (so my friends were right; big deal), my brain was wildly overstimulated and I couldn’t bear to look at any more breasts: even my own. That night, I undressed in the dark.
* * *
I was on an adrenaline high until I had to tell my parents. They were spectacularly furious. In their minds, I was about to compromise my perfect figure for no reason other than vanity. My mother scrounged up every story she could find to discredit breast augmentation, while my father delivered stern lectures about my fiscal stupidity. This was to be the first time I had openly defied my parents. It felt like jumping from the high dive into a very small pool.
Then, exactly a week before the surgery, my boyfriend broke up with me, not because of my impending surgery but because of his need to resolve his issues about commitment. This was horrible, but not as horrible as the realization that with him went my post-op ride home and my caretaker.
I screened my calls that night to avoid another emotional pummeling from my parents. Hello, this is your mother; said her message. Your father will be there on Friday to bring you back to our house and we will take care of you all weekend. Good-bye. I love you. This time, I did exactly as my mother told me.
* * *
On Friday, at exactly 9:15 a.m., I lay down on the operating table. The anesthesia took hold at 9:20, and by 11 I was being wheeled into recovery. At noon, a nurse sat me up and helped me put on my sweatshirt. Holy crap! I’ve got breasts! I mumbled, peering down at my bulging bandages. She helped me off the gurney and out to the waiting room.
There sat my father. My Wall Street Journal–reading, stock-trading, cell-phone-preoccupied daddy, picking up his baby girl after she had gotten the breasts he so deeply opposed. Clearing his throat, he asked, How are you feeling? He tried not to let his gaze wander from my face. Good, good; I said, and promptly burst into a giggle fit.
The laughter stopped when I lifted my arm for the seat belt on the ride home. My incisions were in my armpits, and the slightest movement smarted like hell. I spent the weekend drifting in and out of a Vicodin haze, and on Monday I was back at the doctor’s office having my bandages removed. It’ll be easier to see them if you open your eyes; he said. And there they were: the breasts I had always wanted but had been too afraid to buy.
They were swollen for the first few weeks, like flesh-colored alarm bells, sitting about as high and just as firm. But my new silhouette garnered rave reviews from everyone I knew. And, of course, there were wisecracks.
I fell madly in love with my new body. I dressed every morning feeling proportionate and feminine. The sight of myself naked was a pleasant shock for the first few months, and on a couple of occasions, when I was alone and the blinds were closed, I tried on my old mini-clothes just to give myself a tasty thrill.
Not too long after, my boyfriend and I got back together and fell even more in love. All four of us; my breasts, my boyfriend, and I have softened and settled into a quiet lifestyle.
Back at the East Bank Club after four months of imposed sloth, I tried to distract myself from the pain of stomach crunches with some deep thinking: Which came first, the chicken or the breast? Did the surgery make me feel mature, or had I matured enough to know it was the right choice? Hard as I searched, there were no regrets, no second thoughts. My reverie was interrupted when the woman I had glared at all those months before strutted by, her Ladies locked and loaded in her jogbra. This time, I wasn’t bitter toward her. I was finally satisfied with myself; inside and out. And I owe every ounce of credit for that to me, my surgeon and Visa.


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Vendetta
post Aug 29 2008, 11:48 AM
Post #3160


Hardcore BUSTie
***
Posts: 182


Gwen Stefani confuses me too... I remember her being flat chested yes and now she has those perfect breasts? Maybe pregnancy? Implants? If they're implants they look damn good and if they're a consequence of pregnancy, geez I'll pray for mine to end up like that!
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