Have You Hugged Your Breasts Today?

 I could not handle being a woman; I would stay home all day and play with my  breasts--- [Steve Martin]


~~It has taken thirty years but I’m finally in fashion, honey.


In Middle School, I developed breasts before any of the other girls in my class, and believe me, I was not happy about it. Not a bit.  You know the way some girls will get all elated and exclaim, “Hey, Mom, I have boobies now, can we please, please, please go pick out bras at Kmart?”  I. Was. Not. one of those girls. In fact, I wore a jean jacket to hide them, pretend they weren’t there, and hoped to god they’d disappear overnight.  No such luck. They just kept growing.


I was noticed.  Or should I say, my breasts were noticed.  By boys.  Those rotten little pigs. I shall never forget.  I attended a birthday party when I was about fifteen and I overheard this boy (Sam Baldacci) whisper, “hey, ya get a look at Sisto’s tits?   And although I was burning up with embarrassment, with humiliation, my cheeks, the apple-red tint of Lolita’s, I walked directly up to Baldacci, tapped him on the shoulder trying not to inhale the cheap beer upon his breath and hissed hysterically (with fangs and drool and all my might)”I heard what you said, dumb ass; shut your big fat trap!”   Yes, I did. I surely did.


All of my girlfriends were small breasted; they could throw on a flimsy t-shirts and look marvelously trendy.  And the best thing was, their boobs stayed right where they were supposed to be…directly in front of them:  perky, lively, just how I wanted mine to be. I mean, they could run around gym class without the constraint and restriction of a bra and I was sooooooooo envious of this simple act of freedom.  Can you imagine; playing trench ball with NO bra?


When my sister and I fought, and believe me, we pulled hair, kicked, pinched, and used our razor sharp tongues with great articulation—she even confessed that some of the words I spewed out; she later had to look up in the dictionary for definitions. Of course, they were not words at all, except perhaps in Satan’s Dictionary.  Anyhow, she’d scream venomously, “Boys only like you cause of your big boobs!”  She knew, as most sisters do, exactly, precisely, perfectly where to get me good, where to burn me the most, where I’d feel the most pain.


The thing was… I knew what caused her pain, too.  “Well, you-you –you-have big, ugly Roly-Poly- lips,” I’d retort.   And not only did I say it, I had to pluck my upper and lower lip together like a harp causing loud, sputtering noises.  


Take that, sister dear.  Ya big lipped freak show.  


Anyway, I noticed at a young age when certain people were speaking to me, they were not looking at my face, especially the piggy boys.  I was like, “Hey buddy, my face is up here, my eyes are up here, my voice is up here, my intelligence is up here!”  What I wanted to say is, “Are you slow?  Are you an idiot?  Are you a few fries short of a kid’s meal?”


And the media was partly to blame for my boob dilemma, as well, because all of the magazines I looked at such as Cosmopolitan and Vogue had flat chested women inside the shiny, superficial pages.  And as a young girl of fourteen or fifteen, I had imagined I should look that way, as well. It was sexy. It was tom-boy- hot. It was very Twiggy-like.



I am happy to say that times have changed, girlfriends’.  And the change has affected me directly, pleasingly, and profoundly.   My buxom bosoms are finally HIP.  In fact, in case you haven’t heard, women are running to the Nip/Tuk team to enlarge, blow up, stuff, silicone-ize, and magnify their Ta-Ta’s!   


Recently, having a glass of merlot with my sister I suddenly declared, “Guess what?  We are finally in fashion after all of these years!  You with your large Angelina Jolie lips and me with my large Pamela Anderson boobs.”  We laughed our asses off.  I mean it. I literally saw my ass sprawled out on the tiled floor on my way out. 


My point is this...forget all the rest.   Appreciate what you have. Embrace. Love. Savor. Enjoy. Give thanks. Every. Single. Day.   Hug whatever it is that you dislike about yourself….because it’s part of YOU.  And you are beautiful.


~~ Finally, after all of these years, that’s exactly what I decided to do.


Cclick here to learn more about positive Body Image….. ~Learning to Love Your Body:

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