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I have big breasts.

Obviously.

So that means a load of different things, right?

I’m having back pains, I get constant rashes, my shoulder hurt from straps, my neck is being strained and my posture is horrible.

That’s what having big breasts means right? And having big breasts always means that I’m a slut who has sex with anyone and everyone. It means that I purposely show them off and try to get attention. And it means that every time I look good, it’s for someone else, right?

Want to know what having big breasts really means?

It means I have big breasts!

It doesn’t mean that I hate my body. It doesn’t mean that I’m in pain and hunched over. It also doesn’t mean that I seek attention and have sex with every guy that happens to look at my breasts.

I love my body, which includes my breasts. The bras I have are my true size and don’t cause pain or sore shoulders and neck strains. I don’t look good for other people, I look good for me; simply because I like being able to look in the mirror and think I look beautiful. No, I don’t have sex with everyone I meet. And the amount of times I have or have not had sex is for my knowledge and my, if any, partners.

Each time I go out, I get looks. Whether it be from horny men, or envious women. but I don’t let it bother me, because I don’t know them and their thoughts of me truly don’t matter. Although, comments can be sometimes bothersome. I won’t go into the details of those, as I’m sure most women have heard them all before. They are hurtful.

What bothers me about the remarks that I get, is the absolute envy and hatred that you can hear. And the only think I can ask myself is, why? Why hate or feel jealous of me when you don’t know me? Why call me a fake-busted bimbo simply because I happened to develop a little more than other girls? Why automatically assume that since your man can’t keep his eyes on you, that I would want him?

I don’t get what is accomplished by making these remarks, or giving me nasty looks. Does it make you feel better about yourself? Do you feel like a better person if you bring me down and ruin my otherwise wonderful day? Or does insulting someone just get you off? Whatever the reason might be, I never get why it has to be said out loud.

I’ll admit, I’ve whispered to my mom, or talked to my fiance, about people I see. Do I let them hear me? No. That’s just rude and inconsiderate. I have my own comments and opinions of what I see, but I don’t say them out loud. Why make someone unhappy? Why make a comment towards a busty lady when she most likely thinks of them all by herself?

Women are their own worst critics. I know I have been since the age of 8. I developed fast, and I was taller than everyone else. I had horrible acne, still do, actually. I wore glasses and dyed my hair. I didn’t try to stick out; I actually tried to do the opposite of that. I tried so hard to fit in. I would cake on make-up to try to make myself feel pretty like the other girls. I wouldn’t talk about certain things because I wanted to fit in. I didn’t develop my own opinions because I didn’t want to be alienated.

When I got into middle school, it was worse. That’s when people started dating and getting their first kisses. Where was I? Going through multiple bras and trying to figure out how to do my make up so I could look pretty. What did I do with my time? I sat at home, writing and reading my books instead of going out with friends because I wasn’t really liked and my own ‘friends’ were ashamed to be associated with me.

High school wasn’t so bad. I, fortunately, went to a high school that was very open. People weren’t as judgmental; I didn’t need to try so hard to fit in. But it was still hard. Girls can be mean, especially since we are all going through so many different changes that it can be a horrible experience. I still tried my hardest to look pretty, tried to minimize my much larger chest because of the horrible rumors that would be spread, and had been spread since I was around the age of 10.

Wanna know what all the rude comments did to me? Made me feel ugly, made me hate my body and how it developed. I was counting down the days till I was 18 so I could get a reduction and make it easier for myself. Or so I thought.

I, again, fortunately, met my fiance the beginning of my second year in high school. He made me feel pretty. He made me feel like I didn’t need to try. He hated the make up I would wear, and he loved when I wore a simple shorts and shirts. It’s one thing to have your family tell you are pretty, than an outsider who doesn’t yet know who you truly are.

And yet, it still took me a year of being with him to realize that I am pretty. That I have large breasts, and they don’t make me feel like a freak. They are a part of me, and I should treat them as properly as I would treat my feet. They needed to be in the right size, or they would hurt.

It wasn’t until about February of this year that I realized that I’m a 30J. How did I come across my true size? I went into Victoria’s Secret, and they ‘measured’ me at a 34DDD, but they didn’t carry that size, which meant I didn’t buy any of their bras. I searched frantically online, afraid of buying over the internet, but having no other choice. I came across a wonderful woman, Angela. She told me to measure myself and I did. I’ll admit, I was rude at first, in denial with the fact that I could be so large of a size. It took me a few weeks before I accepted it and found my first bra, my Curvy Kate Tempt Me. And I fell in love with my body.

I have experienced no pain in these last three months. I have not had any hate towards my own body that I can’t control. I love myself, to be honest. I love how I look. Yes, I want to be a bit toned, but that’s more for health reasons, then for aesthetics. I love that I’m 43-29-41. I’m curvy, and I’m skinny. And it’s noticeable. When I’m in public, I sit and stand straight, I don’t try to hide the fact that I’m busty. I’m proud of it.

And that’s sad. Why should I have to fight for my confidence? Why did I have all those years of feeling like a freak with large breasts? Why couldn’t it just be, ‘hey my body is mine and i love me the way I am’? but no, because society seems adamant on putting those who look a bit different, or don’t fit the ‘norm’ down.

I don’t think it’s fair.

But what can I do except hold my head up and know that someone finds me perfect the way I am?

That’s really any girl can do.

And I’ll take it upon myself to help those girls realize it.