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I am that classic pubescent story of the girl who got teased for having no tits. All the other girls in school were getting their first bras, or as we called them in our obvious maturity; "over the shoulder boulder holders". Classic. I on the other hand was patiently waiting for mine to come in. I didn't want big ol' titties. Just enough to fill a cup so I could have a bra. In the glorious summer before grade 9 puberty hit me straight in the ass... and thighs... and waist... and of course the mammaries. And just like magic my breasts went from lil lumps to DD's. I walked into school the fall of grade 9 to the question of "where did those come from Heather?!" constantly. My boobs wouldn't stop growing out of everything my mom bought for me. So the fact that every kid I went to elementary school with was asking me where my masses came from, coupled with a summer of borrowing my mother's bathing suit until I stopped developing, I developed a complex.
I HATED my breasts, in high school they seemed to be a main focus. In part, because of my insecurities but also because they actually did seem to be the main focus. If someone didn't remember my name they'd say 'you know that girl that looks like Hannah except with the big boobs?' or I had a gal pal that would full on grope me in the hallway in front of people and say "I wish I had big boobs". When my friends teased me I'd be Tits McGee. Or people would just constantly point out that I had really big boobs. All this attention mixed with my natural teenage insecurities made me miserable about the way I looked.
Being from a small town I had limited access to cool and trendy clothing. The first issue was that I obviously needed some bras. I couldn't wear my mom's old ones forever, but I wanted cute ones. Like the one's my small tittied friends had with polka dots or fucking glitter or whatever. You can imagine what kind of bras a small town would have for a chesty teen. Either they were those granny beige monstrosities that I wouldn't want to be caught dead in in case my peers would make fun of me or think I was tragically uncool, or they had bras that were waaaaay to mature and sexualized for a 15 year old. I'm trying to flirt with teen boys not seduce their fathers! Jeeze. I felt out of place, embarrassed, and ashamed of my body. I cried to my mother constantly about getting a breast reduction. My breasts felt unnatural to me.
To make things worse, there was clothing shopping in general. Everything was scrutinized. From which bathing suit I could wear, to what top would 'cover up' my teats enough. I would hear things like "You can't wear that top, you don't want to look like a slut with your boobs out." or "That's WAY too much cleavage." or "That's not appropriate for your age, you don't want men staring at your chest." to the classic "You don't want the wrong kind of attention." Appropriate for my age or not, my body decided to do its thing, and now these chesticles are here to stay.
Saddled with the anxiety of my chest size, I moved into my 20's. I had also moved to Toronto at this point so, I had access to cuter bras and better clothes. The only issue was that I couldn't afford a lot of the stuff I thought would make me feel better about my body. Around this time the baggy shirt/crop top trend came in. I loved it, i bought myself cheap black bras and to cope with the insecurity of my boobs I rocked the baggy crop tops for most of my twenties. My boobs became like a secret that only I knew about. Unless I decided to to get half naked in a bathing suit, or wear a body con outfit, then it would be WABAM! Double Ds!
I was so good at hiding the size of my boobs that it took years for some of my friends to know what I was packin' under my baggy tee. I was struggling with changing my style as well. I have always really been into fashion but from a young age, but being consistently told you can't wear something based on your breast size, really gets to you. Shamefully hiding my chest wasn't working either, I'd try to find my style and change up my look and wear something more body hugging and all of sudden its back to the "Where were you hiding those Heather?". I'd run straight back to my baggy shirt. My sense of style finally started to take shape but my addiction to the bra and 'managing my tits' didn't stop. I wouldn't even hang out in my pajamas around friends without a bra on.
My full acceptance didn't come until this year actually. I was downsizing my wardrobe and was looking at my bras thinking some were pretty ratty and should be replaced. Then a thought crossed my mind "Why do I need to wear a bra?" I don't like bras, they are too expensive, they hurt, and they give me chaffing and heat rashes in the summer. I realized then that it wasn't my boobs I disliked, it was the pressure of not fitting into a societal standard. So I decided that I'd try just not wearing a bra. I'd wear baggy sweatshirts and test the waters until I got enough confidence where I really don't care! And that's exactly what I did.
Comments or weird looks or whatever, I don't care. Once in awhile I'll have moments of "Are my boobs offending anyone" or even when I took these outfit photos I asked my friend photographing "Are my nips even?". Who cares? Its normal to have one boob bigger than the other and I shouldn't feel bad about it. I still think most days that I'll get that breast reduction, But that is also my own choice. This is who I am and this is what makes me comfortable. Free the nip! Burn the bra! If my fellow femmes want to keep the bra, then do it up ladies! We can do as we please! The key to going braless is the same as anything in life, do what makes you happy and don't listen to anyone else. If someone ever tells me to "put on a bra", I'll tell them to put on a 21st century attitude. What a time to be alive and braless!
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