Boobs. Yeah, I said it. However, anyone wants to call it, I call them boobs. An asset that people look at as an attractive physical quality. The same things that children find nourishment. Me. I have really big boobs. If I knew the size I would tell you, but I don’t. Because they hadn’t stopped growing. I lost track. The bra I currently wear now is a 36J.
Why haven’t they stopped? It’s because I have a condition named Macromastia. It is when breast tissue becomes excessive where they become abnormally large, ultimately becoming unproportional.
Growing up I always thought I wanted big boobs, so much I even wished it. While girls were maturing faster than me, they made fun of me for being a late bloomer. In seventh grade, I went from a 32B to a 34DD after winter break. As I got older, they just got bigger. I once thought they were huge when I was a 36DDD in tenth grade.
I was wrong. Looking back at things now, whether it was fate or not. Whether wishing made it happen or it didn’t, it has become a pain in my life that I wish I could part with.
It has made holding my daughter hard, breastfeeding frustrating, and just living very difficult. I constantly think about what I should wear because nothing fits like it used to. What does a girl do with a small waist, but large bust?
It still makes me cry when I look in the mirror. It makes loving myself hard. It’s just not something I would wish anyone.
All though this pain has plagued my life I have found a couple solutions that helps me get through my days, until I achieve my eventual goal for a breast reduction.
I wear extra support, so the weight isn’t too much. I wear dresses that flare out so that they flatter everything. But more than anything, I listen to my amazing support system. My husband.
He loved me before and he still loves me now. My favorite thing that he says, “It’s okay, it just means there is more to love.”