All about breasts (mine included)

Heh.

I don't *really* want to discuss this -- and you don't really want to read about it -- but let's have a train wreck anyway, shall we?

I've lost a cup size.

For some women, this is a tragedy. But I am *not* one of those women. In fact, I'm pleased, because this here rack has got more than its fair share of the world's tender flesh.

Now, here's one of those little secrets that haunt the booboisie† (terrible pun that it is): *Most* women wear bras at least one cup size too small. There are many reasons for this, I'm sure. I can hazzard to guess a few of them, although I lay no claim to having my ideas empirically validated. (As one of my classmates recently said, "Why do you need psychological research when their findings just make you say, 'Duh! I already knew *that*'?") Much of my anecdotal research on this topic was conducted at specialty bra shops, talking to the women who do the fittings. Thusly:

-- There's something really horrifying about being anything larger than a C cup. In fact, when I recently walked into the lingerie store -- and I *do* go to a specialty shop, if for no other reason than because some lovely woman will measure me, go through that hideously large selection of styles and colors, bring me several variations on the right-sized bra, slip it over my shoulders for me and latch it -- ... when I walked into the store, I heard the owner say, "You can see that this F cup..." to a slender woman who immediately put both hands on her face in shock and interrupted, "You mean they come *that big*?" She was horrified.

-- Anything bigger than a C is what Dolly Parton calls "an over-the-shoulder boulder holder." God bless her for being so poetic.

-- Sizes larger than a C or D can be hard to find in regular stores. And, if you do actually need some *support,* as opposed to a little bit of nylon and a little bit of elastic, you're gonna run into trouble.

I'm sure there are other reasons, but I think these generally cover the explanations I've heard from my large-breasted friends over the years.

So, you might wonder: Exactly how does a woman manage to wear a bra that's at least one cup size too small? I'm glad you asked, because there are two common methods a woman might employ, according to the bra fitters and my own personal observations:

-- First and rather tragically, as we've all seen, there's the "Thy Cup Overfloweth" method. The cup bites into the under-secured breast, creating the impression of a curious bulge where one's contour ought to be smooth. If you're going to carry this off, you must dress provocatively and wear all your shirt lines at this point -- like a renaissance wench -- so it appears you're just showing off the goods. Otherwise ... oh, honey....

-- Second, and most commonly, women simply expand the fit around their rib cage, so if they are really a 38 D, they become a 40 or 42 C. This extra space is used to house their extra flesh, frequently pushing it into their armpits. This is much more easily accomplished when you've got "National Geographic" breasts, versus being really firmly stacked.

God bless the women who are really firmly stacked. I love those kinds of breasts. But, as I've noticed, most of us don't have them. And the older we get, the more gravity starts taking its toll. Some of us, like JellyGirl, decide to remedy this situation surgically. Others of us -- myself included -- just say: Well, the person who wants to be with me is just gonna have to take these knockers the way they are. And that's worked pretty well for me (so far, anyway).

But breasts are such a source of pride or pain for many women. Guys whine -- when they dare reveal themselves -- about how freaky it was to be showering in the school lockers during middle school and high school. And no doubt, that was a hideous thing.

But I am thinking back to something I witnessed in middle school -- it was probably 7th or 8th grade -- and wondering about the long-term effects of this kind of cruelty. We were getting our spines checked for signs of scoliosis, and we were all requested to line up without our shirts on so some woman could check our spines for curves.

Most of the girls had bras already. They were generally "training" bras -- whatever the hell we were training for, I couldn't tell you. But this one girl didn't. She hadn't started to grow much in the way of breasts yet. One of the P.E. teachers asked her, "Would you like some band-aids to cover your nipples?"

Most of the girls in line started snickering and laughing. I felt sorry for her. For the rest of the school year -- and the next after that -- she was constantly asked by other girls in the locker room before P.E., "Did you forget your band-aids today?" Things like that. the ridicule was vicious.

Then, in high school, those of us who were blossoming into substantial bosoms -- myself included -- were targeted by the smaller-breasted girls for ridicule at the opposite end of the spectrum. I heard countless jokes about why one of my mates on the swimteam was a back-stroker (only stroke where her breasts didn't get in the way, and where her mams could act like flotation aids). And I was constantly chided for being a breast-stroker. (And now look at me! That is *still* one of my favorite things, even when there's not a body of water in sight!)

No doubt, this kind of shit has something to do with why many women hate admitting to anything larger than a C cup -- and many don't like admitting to anything smaller. Basically, you're damned if you got mams and damned if you don't. Unless you're that perfect, firm and perky 36 C.

In my case, I've got mams in excess. I could stand to have breast reduction surgery, in my opinion. But I'm trying generic weight loss first. So far, I've ditched a whole cup size. But then, I went up TWO cup sizes when I finally got a professional bra fitting some time ago, so I'm having to do a lot of backtracking.

In the meantime, though, there's no saying I can't dress 'em sexy. Fortunately, there's plenty out there that both *fits right* and gives the lucky girl or guy removing your shirt a little something about which to say, "hummana, hummana."

Trust me on this, ladies, because when it comes to breasts and the lingerie that embraces them, I am a connoisseur.

†Booboisie, one of my favorite words (along with titilation), is actually a real word, in case you didn't know. It's a class of extraordinarily stupid people. Of which that fucking vile cow-shit-eating, vaginal blood fart Ann Coulter is a member.