I started to develop breasts around the time I was 11. At 13 I was still an A cup and was envious of my big-breasted classmates. That changed in the summer between grades eight and nine. I started at a new high school with DDs and quickly became aware that people around me were noticing. It wasn’t long before I started to feel very self-conscious and began hiding them to the best of my ability. When I hit the age of 20 I was a G cup and hated my breasts. They were hurting me physically and emotionally. Running was a painful experience. Getting a drink at a bar was just embarrassing. So, Sept. 2, 2008 I had a breast reduction. 6.8 kg of breast tissue was removed. I can’t tell you how many girls jokingly begged me to donate to them whatever I “reduced” in surgery. Or how many guys said I was “slapping god in the face for giving [me] a beautiful gift.”
During the healing process I became extremely aware of how obsessed we all are with breasts. It all just seemed so ridiculous to me. All women have them. In my opinion they serve no sexual purpose, yet we associate them with a woman’s level of desirability
Nowadays I’m a D and have finally accepted them. They’re scarred and not sexy, but I feel that they’re not supposed to be; they’re just boobs.
