Living with abnormally large breasts...

It had been quite some time since I'd worn anything with a button-front.  I'd been in many weddings, and felt like melting into a pool of humiliation on the floor each time one of my teeny tiny bride friends picked the damn strapless satin/flimsy/traanslucent dress... knowing I would be gawked at walking down the aisle with my boobs boosted to the sky by some medieval undergarment.  Boing, boing, boing *sorry Jesus, I know this isn't respectful* boing. Worse yet were the halter top dresses that were so popular in the mid 90's.  Nothing like an evening of medieval-undergarment paired with the round-the-neck strap.  Let's also mention that halter tops only draw the breasts together, creating even MORE cleavage.  Oh and it was the 90's so most of the time, we still wore stupid pantyhose.

A symphony of undergarments, if you will.  None of them comfortable.

I didn't hate my boobs at this point in life-- don't get me wrong, I enjoyed being the chesty lass, from a social standpoint.  Boobs are freakin' cool, and guys love them!  What do single ladies in their early 20's want?  I had no general career goals, I wanted guys to love me.  Want me!  Objectify me!  I am a woman and I want you to covet me!  "I'm the tall blonde with the big boobs".   Even the gay men were interested-- on a trip to New Orleans with some college buddies, a very forward and effeminate rainbow-flag toting jokester threw the meat scale up on the counter and offered to weigh them for me.  Oh HEY!  Thanks, um, but no thanks.

I really only hated them when I tried to shop for... oh, anything other than pants.  In the event that something FIT, nothing minimized them.  I just kind of had to hope for something that wouldn't show an obscene amount of cleavage at work.  Stretchy shirts and a cardigan layered over the top (never buttoned of course).  Suit jackets were an even BIGGER joke.  Large-breasted women wearing suit-jackets look like they're trying to be the "sexy secretary".

Swimsuits were a source of infinite frustration.  Even the "separates" tops only really went up to D cups, and even that was a stretch.  Thank the good heavenly Lord for the popularization of the tankini!  Shelf bra?  Oh... fail.

At this point in life, I had heard of people who had reductions, but that wasn't for me.  I think I thought that in order to keep my identity, to keep the attention of the guys, to keep being ME, required the boobs. Part and parcel.  Package deal.  Without boobs, who was I?  What on earth would make me stand out? I didn't know.  My self esteem rested on being sexy and being able to attract suitors and keep them around for a while.  Sexy lingerie was also kind of a fail.  The only thing that honestly worked was really stretchy stuff (which is hella sexy over giant breasts, so SCORE!).  No pretty lacy business for me.

So, life with abnormally large breasts.  Not so bad.  Neck and shoulder pain?  Bah.  That's from being at the computer!  Running?  Oh heavens no.  I'll just walk for exercise.