The Fuss Over the Bust: Part 1

This post was written by guest author, Salina.

They are what every woman desires bigger and better, what every man persistently daydreams about, and what used to make the difference between a PG-13 movie as opposed to a rated R movie.

Breasts. Round, perky, supple, they come in every shape and size from barely A to, well, the largest I’ve ever heard were triple F’s. Women most often use them to their advantage, perhaps to get ahead in the work world by creating the magical art of cleavage and tantalizing the boss, or seducing a man whose weakness is never being able to reject the handful of breast that is being offered for his groping pleasure. There have been all sorts of bras to support these novelty body parts, everything from water bras to push-up bra to sports bras. They are emphasized in nearly every type of media, given pet names, and admired as the most beautiful body part on a woman’s body, most of the time. And having too much of them is not always a good thing.

As a naturally large-breasted twenty-year old female, I have always found my breasts somewhat overwhelming. I am a 34 D, almost DD, and I flat out despise my breasts. They have prevented me from wearing all the cutest trendy tops: halter tops, tube tops, spaghetti strap tank tops, triangle top bikini tops. I have always been envious of those small-breasted girls who flounce around braless in nothing but tiny tops and no excessive bouncing to worry about. These girls don’t give a second thought to how good they have it, how they never had to think twice about wearing the skimpiest top, and how they can exercise without pain. I love to run, but have always found it a strain to run with large breasts. Sure, I wear the tightest sports bra I can find, but after a while the red marks and lesions turned into engraved scars underneath my breasts. I can only wear thick-strapped, sporty looking bras on a daily basis in order to fit into most of my tops without looking like I’m trying to create an illusion of undue bustiness. As you can see, I am not one to be proud of my breasts. I am sure some of you girls and women out there know what I’m talking about: while most yearn for enhanced breasts, we want to just be able to exercise without having neck pain or, sadly enough, without having to duct tape our breasts down because sports bras just don’t do the trick. My dream? To one day know what it’s like to run fast because I won’t have my breasts weighing me down. To one day meet people, and not have them think of me as a large-breasted girl. I typically don’t think of myself as large all-around, but due to my breasts and how they are the central “theme” of my body, I want to be able to have them balance out with the rest of my body. Most of all, I want to be able to know I can be comfortable during the evening hours when wearing a bra is plain burdensome.

As a result, several months ago, March to be exact, I told my parents how I wanted to see a surgeon about a reduction. It took two months for them to become comfortable with the idea, and then two more months for our insurance to kick in and let us schedule an appointment with a surgeon. In July we were finally able to make an appointment, and then another two months later in September the most looked forward day of my life (besides having the surgery actually done) was before me. Pictures were taken, breasts were fondled (professionally), and grams were estimated. Another grueling two months passed, these two months being the most aggravating and anticipatory of my life, and I waited for the insurance to review my case file. Finally, on Wednesday, November 13th, two months and two days after the meeting with the surgeon, my insurance gave me an answer as to whether I was large enough, uncomfortable enough, and suitable enough to have the surgery be done absolutely free. Thankfully, the answer was yes. Surgery date is set for December 12th, and I am counting down the days until the day I can be blessed with a smaller chest. To be continued…