When I started this blog, it was always with the goal that I would talk about body positivity as well as fashion.
This is the first post that I will actually do this in, and I want to start with something very close and important to me.
Symmetry. How many of us are truly symmetrical? Logically, I know the answer to this question is very few of us. It can however, be very hard to believe this fact when each and every day, we are bombarded with photo-shopped images of women and men, altered to make the subject appear as perfect as they can be.
Beauty lies everywhere. It lies in our imperfections as much if not more so than in the features that we consider perfect. This is a concept I have had, and still have trouble accepting and believing. Still, I try.
One area of my body that has been a source of angst for me since I was in my teens is my chest, or in other words, my breasts.
The rest of this post discusses breasts and includes a photograph of mine; my modesty is retained but I would still consider this a NSFW post.
As my breasts started to develop, it soon became very evident that my left breast was considerably bigger than my right.
I hated them.
I completely loathed them.
I was overweight, something which depressed me in of itself. But then, to have weird boobs on top of that? I just wanted so badly for them to be ‘normal’.
My GP didn’t want to do anything until I had finished growing. By the time I reached 18, it was clear that my right wasn’t going to ‘catch up’ with my left. So I was referred for a boob job. Being overweight, I was told that before they consider surgery, I had to show a commitment to losing weight, so I was given six months to go away and start the process of slimming down. Did I lose any weight? No, I didn’t. Six months passed, and I went back into the consultation room knowing that I would be dropped off the list.
I walked away feeling more depressed than ever. I was a freak in my mind, and I didn’t think anyone who might show the slightest bit of interest in me romantically and sexually would want to know once I showed them what I looked like naked.
I was, thankfully wrong! Excluding dalliances that took place in drunken hazes, every one of my partners has loved my body completely, including my breasts. Where I saw ugliness, they saw/see beauty. And for the longest time, I just didn’t understand how they couldn’t see what I saw when I looked in the mirror. Why they didn’t think I was some kind of freak.
Some days, I still look in the mirror and hate what I see when I look down. But those days are few and far between now. I can’t really pin point why my main outlook changed. Perhaps it was the support of my wonderful partners building me up, showing me that I am not this ugly monster that my head would believe me to be. Perhaps it’s just been the process of learning to live with them. Maybe it’s been the support of an amazing community online of other women and men learning to love themselves and their bodies.
The likelihood is that it is a combination of all three.
I think back to that day, nearly 14 years ago now, when I was sat in the consultation room being told that I wouldn’t be allowed to get corrective surgery on the NHS. How much I hated and despised myself in the moment. If only I knew then what I know now. Perfection is a myth. No one has a perfect body, and it’s the imperfections that make us who we are, that make us unique. If I could go back and talk to 18 year old me, I would tell her to be proud of every single inch of herself. Especially of her uneven, wonky, imperfect boobs. Because they are part of who she is, and she should embrace all that she is.
I love my boobs. I have the best of both worlds; a small, dainty one that’s rather perky, and a larger one with a beautiful large nipple that isn’t as pert as its smaller counterpart, but makes up for it by being far more sensitive to various stimuli.
My biggest complaint these days is simply related to practicality. Buying bra’s is a nightmare! As a bigger woman, I need a sizable back size. Usually a 44/46 is best, although 42 with extender works as well. Leftie is a B/C cup, whereas Rightie is a A cup. So I usually go for a B cup. 44/46B is an extremely hard size to come by. it’s not all that much easier with a 42.
Clothes sometimes don’t lie the way they should on me either. Sometimes I try and counteract that by stuffing, but not always. I’m trying to get past the point where I feel the need to hide my body shape, and that includes my breasts. I’m pretty much there I think! 🙂
The following images are of my boobs; not completely revealed but enough to show the difference between the two. I haven’t posted this for any other reason than to demonstrate what I’m working with. As they say, a picture can speak a thousand words.
Posting these pictures is an extremely hard thing for me to do. If you follow me on instagram, you’ll know that a lot of my posts focus on body positively and loving your body as it is right now. My breasts are still something I am, despite all that, quite self conscious about. But in this journey I am on, I think it’s the right time for me to be more open and allow myself to be seen exactly as I am.
If you have got to the this point, I thank you very much for reading.
All my love,