Let's talk boobs...
a letter to lil Dev
I’ll start with this is something I should have written about decades ago. I legit think this is my opportunity (where my head and heart are colliding) where the message needs to be clear before I enter my 40s. So here goes….
I have had large breast since the 4th grade. I remember thee moment my mom pulled me aside (assuming after a moment of them flailing in the wind) and told me that we needed to go training bra shopping.
There is a particular kind of journey that comes with having large breast. It’s a mix of comedy (I started laughing about them in my mid-late 20s), inconvenience (we’ll get to this), insecurity (still working on this), and cultural commentary that may have some connections to my pursuit of joy.
For me, its been a journey that began before I even understood my body. It has been filled with detours, plot twists, and lately, a sort of beautiful liberation. This post a bit of a jumble through it all.
Having large breast meant that I was inducted into the “Bra Hunger Games” early in life. Having large breast means that I learned early that my body arrived in a room before I did. While I was reeling from learning how to write incursive (a demand in the 4th grade at the time), strangers, relatives, and the general public were deciding that my body would be a topic I’d have to address until the end of the time.
For most of my life, due to having large breast (and also being a complete nerd), I have felt hyper visible and completely misunderstood.
Rooted in the assumptions that:
“She must love having large breast” (from the flat chested middle schoolers)
“I couldn’t imagine having those” (from the flat chested high schoolers)
“You are trying to get attention” (from the core of misogyny misery (i.e., both men and women)
There were plenty of opinions. So, I’ve decided to write a letter to little Devin to, dare I say it…. get a few things off my chest ;)
