My Boobs And I

If you are a small boobed woman and you are reading this, chances are you have already thought about or perhaps mentioned the idea of breast implants.

I have raised the topic to similarly less endowed girlfriends, and the idea of breast implants has crossed their minds at some point in their lives too.

When I was in secondary school. I was a really late bloomer. I think I mentioned before.. I didn't get my first period until I was almost 16. I was a skinny little runt.

For years, I longed for a miracle... that they would suddenly have a growth spurt. I read up on it, and they say that most girls will grow breasts similar to their mother's size (in the genes). But I guess I wasn't most girls.

There was one boy in sec school, named Leonardo... who would constantly tease me about my boobs ( or lack of them). And when I say tease... I don't mean teasing like flirting. I mean a verbal assault and name calling. Airport runway, flat, I can't remember what else... I blocked most of it out of my brain. To make matters worse, I had a crush on his good friend Alan for like the longest time ever (...anyway, I digress).

Now, Leonardo was an awkward looking boy; tall and skinny, crusty skin ( I think it was eczema) and wasn't all that academically inclined. But did I see that then? No. All I saw was a boy who viewed me as unattractive... even ugly. And it hurt.

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Did I think of myself as unattractive? Despite the fact that I was already in magazines at the time, yes, I felt ugly and would worry that I would always be that way. The way Leonardo saw me.

The sad truth is, those who are not so well endowed are often viewed as being less of a woman or less sexy. Having small breasts is like a disease that one can fix with surgery.

Honestly, if it were as easy as clicking a few buttons on the computer (where I spend a great deal of my time anyway)... I'd get them augmented right this minute.

But breast implants involve a good deal of permanence, money and risk. Not to mention the agonising healing period after surgery (oh yes, I've watched many episodes of Dr.90210, so I consider myself quite an expert in the field of plastic surgery by now... haha).

And it doesn't help that magazine images and the media keep presenting supermodels with augmented breasts as the standard of beauty.

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In fact, I get quite pissed off whenever I read that some anorexic looking model gets pulled out of a fashion show, or a pageant queen gets criticised for being too skinny. They say she's a bad role model for young girls.

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And yet it's perfectly fine to have models and beauty queens with silicone implants? In fact, the ones with the fake breasts land Victoria Secret fashion shows, sports illustrated swimsuit covers and the Crown to the pageant. How's that promoting a healthy body image???

You know in America (and most countries actually), breast implants are so common. Girls get boob jobs for their 18th birthday. What kind of a birthday gift is that? You might as well get her a birthday card that says ‘Happy Birthday, dearest flat-chested Daughter-whom we need to pump with silicon in order to give you the sense that you are attractive! Love, Mom & Dad.”.

With the trend continuing this way... will I just cave in one day, get the implants and say .. "Bloody Hell.. why didn't I just do this sooner?! Me and my self righteous bullshit!"

I might. Possibly when I'm well into my 30s and have breastfed a couple of kids... (i.e. body not that toned, feeling old, breasts no longer pert), I might come to the conclusion then that having bigger breasts could be the very thing that would make me feel better.

But the question remains... what would I be getting implants for? For my own pleasure? Or for the opposite sex? Or am I purely just trying to fit into society? I don't know.

What I do know is that for the longest time, growing up, I worried that sex appeal and big boobs were synonymous. When I had my first real boyfriend in Junior College... I remember we were at my house watching football late one night. Everyone else had gone to bed.

And we were getting cosy when he put my hand on his crotch! I was excited. [Ah... to be young and innocent]. But you know what? I let my own inferiority and insecurity about my body get in the way of what could have been a wonderful growing up experience. No I don't mean sex! I mean the kind of magic you feel when you discover and experience things for the first time.

I remember distinctly... that I pulled my hand away thinking. Oh My God. He's huge! (ok.. I never ever saw his penis, or any other penis at that point in my life...so, HUGE was a pretty unsubstantiated term). And I never went further with him because I thought I would be short changing him.

I avoided intimacy because I felt I was flawed. And that I would disappoint.

Now that I think about it. It was so silly to have thought that way. To think that I wasn't good enough and didn't deserve him. I don't know whatever happened to him, but if I met him now, I would like to ask him what he thought of me then.

Of course, I wouldn't believe him. :)

I used to be convinced that all my boyfriends were stifling complaints about my pert-but-petite breasts. When they told me they adored my small sensitive breasts, they were obviously just being polite.

Only in recent times have I come to realise that the size of my breasts do not determine how attractive I am as a person.

It could well be that some men find women with small breasts unattractive. But the question is: What type of men are these anyway if their affections can be won by a couple more grams of breast on either side?

Hopefully, years down the road, I'll re-read this entry, and I can put my hand on my heart, which is hopefully not buried underneath a mound of silicone, and say I love myself no matter what I look like.

And for any woman to realise that you are beautiful no matter what, the world is yours.