A post about breasts
I watched a program on BBC America tonight called “My small breasts and I.” Gerald was quite surprised to see it on the TiVo considering that I do not have small breasts. I explained, “I want to see how the other half lives.”
I have large breasts. In part, that’s because I’m overweight. However, it’s mostly genetic. I come from a long line of “hourglass figures.” The women in my family have large breasts, narrow waists and large hips. I still maintain this figure, even though I’m fat. I’ve had large breasts for a long as I can remember. The aren’t a source of angst for me. I would prefer to have smaller breasts for practical purposes, but I’m pretty sure I’d look disproportionate if I did.
The women featured in this program hated their breasts. I know I sling the word “hate” around an awful lot, but I really mean it here in the strictest sense of the word. One woman expressed feeling “grotesque” because of her 34A breast size. They all seemed to equate larger breasts with femininity and power.
Since I have never experienced life as a small-breasted woman, I can only imagine what it feels like. I don’t really think about my breasts on a daily basis. I don’t consider them the fount of my womanliness or a powerful weapon in my arsenal. They are simply boobs. A decoration I have to contend with and nothing more.
I will confess that I did once, feel differently about my breasts. When Maddie was born, I was quite keen on breastfeeding her. I tried everything, but my breasts were not made for breastfeeding. I was physically incapable of feeding my daughter. I tried pumping and giving Maddie breast milk via the bottle, but I quickly tired of that. It’s double the work and I was getting very little milk. During that time, I hated my breasts for betraying me. How could they not do the one thing they are designed for? The very purpose of breasts is feeding our young, and mine were defective. I felt diminished in my womanhood. I felt broken. Even though my body had just created, nourished and gave birth to a baby, I felt like the female equivalent of a eunuch.
It’s strange that breasts have so much power in our society. So much power than women will voluntarily undergo surgery to get them. So much power that losing one, or both, to cancer is like death to some women. So much power that men will pay hard-earned money just to see them. Maybe I ought to start giving mine the respect they deserve.
Filed under: daily on December 17th, 2007
I saw about 5 minutes of that show while flipping through channels. I also have never really thought twice about my breasts (except when breastfeeding, or trying to, like you). They’re there, for me they REQUIRE a bra that is sometimes uncomfortable. But come on, they’re BAGS OF FAT. Why are two bags of fat so important?
I must see this small-breast special! Good lord, is 34A GROTESQUE though? That sounds suspiciously like MY bra size! Heh.
I exclusively pumped for months and it SUCKED.
I have a “smaller chest” but I was always glad for that. I am also 5′ 2″ so anything larger would seem like misery to me. Like you, I think if I had larger breasts I would just look odd. I see woman who clearly have been augmented and they do have larger breasts but I also thing they look funny in a disproportioned way.
Don’t you think this hatred of small (and to some women) large breasts is really just a self consciousness issue? I mean shouldn’t we love our bodies no matter what? Large or small, different shapes and sizes? It is hard but it is also who we are supposed to be - genetics gave us these things and embracing our past (the people we came from - grandmothers, great grand mothers, etc…) can ease some of this pain because they are who made us special. I am dork like that though!
Also, I am sorry you felt this way about BF. I felt the same way about the birth of my son and for months I wallowed in pity because I SO wanted to give birth naturally and my son’s birth was anything but that… I felt so much less of a woman, like I was weak (in the mean time I only had one friend who was pregnant at the time and 4 weeks later she had the birth I thought I was going to have… it made me re-sent her and I felt even weaker.) Now I know differently and I gave birth to a wonderful strong beautiful little boy and it does not matter how he entered the world as long as he entered it!
When I was pregnant I went up to a DDD, and my chest pretty much had a life of its own. Everyone kept telling me how small I was carrying since my stomach was dwarfed by my enormous boobs.
I guess I don’t have absurdly small breasts - the kind that don’t need a bra - but I certainly didn’t have bigg’ins until after my daughter was born. Big = annoying, but perhaps that’s because I was used to my small ones. However, my original point: most women get over the whole breast thing, don’t they? I mean, isn’t breast anxiety (non-milk related) a teenage thing?
Oh - I had a huge comment all typed up and then totally mis-read the security code. AARRRGGHH!
Anywho -
That must be heartbreaking not to be able to breastfeed. Betrayal certainly sounds like the right word for it, Erica. I mean, that is what those reserves of fat are for, right?
I am FINALLY a 34A since I’ve gained some weight. The only reason I am happy at all about this is because I have a slightly more probable chance of finding cute, quality bras that fit.
I’ve never thought of myself a “grotesque.” Not once. And if a guy dare be unimpressed, he was always more than welcome to entertain himself for the evening. I mean, GEEZUZ. I sure as shit wasn’t going to give him two f-ing seconds of my divine time.
However, my thighs can make me a coward in a heartbeat.
What is with this self-loathing?
I wonder why the women with small breasts were so openinly, vehemenly disgusted with themselves? (My word, that is so, so, so disturbing and upsetting!)
I am officially either a 32 B or a 34 A depending on who measures me and whether the wind is at my back. I hated being so small in high school because boys didn’t know I existed (*sigh* *pine* *woe is me*) and I knew it was because I was so flat (okay, FINE, maybe the bad perm and acne had a LITTLE to do with it).
I’m happy to be small now. I’m so curious about the show you mentioned because I’m not sure how I would react to it. I think I’d be so annoyed that I’d turn it off. Grotesque?! Seriously? Get over it, get on with it, learn to love what you got ’cause if you start changing things you may not recognize yourself anymore. I mean, where do you stop!?!
Yeah, I hit the gene pool for the BIG BOOBIES, too. The smallest I remember being in high school was 32 B. And that’s when I was 135 pounds. I tried weighing the girls on a food scale (SHUT UP, I KNOW I’M A DIPSHIT), but it’s much harder than I expected…
As my sister-in-law so eloquently said of breastfeeding, “It’s really great, you know, because my daughter saw me nursing her brother for a long time and now she knows that breasts are functional, not just ornamental.”
ORNAMENTAL? DIG IT!
My whole take is that if small chested woman are interested in my boobs, they have to take the ass, hips, and thighs that come with!!!