…and that’s just what they’ll do
The Change seems to have its perks, after all
The Change and Gravity aren’t the best of friends. But while the majority of my body seems to be drooping and sagging, my breasts are perkier than ever and even seem to be growing. Ironic.
Once upon a time, this awkward, introvert teen seemed to wake up with what turned out to be a decent size C-cup. When the time had come to grow breast, I had always pictured them budding much like a flower: gradually, so one could become acquainted with them and get used to them. They would start as a modest A-cup, I told myself, upon which joyous occasion my mother would take me shopping for elegant, colourful and feminine little bras. As my breasts would then further develop, I would take pride in them and show of my subtle cleavage in the appropriate fashion. I would be accepted and even admired by my peers and finally belong.
[end violin music]
None of this happened, of course. One day, I seemed to just wake up with this C-cup. I felt extremely uncomfortable and none of my regular clothes seemed to fit me. My mother was not overjoyed. She simply hoisted me in one of her — once popular — ‘Cross Your Heart’ bras and sent me off to school, where I dreaded Phys Ed.
Running around during Phys Ed indeed proved extremely uncomfortable, bit that was nothing compared to the pain whenever some ball hit me squarely in the breasts (apart from swimming, I never was much good at physical activities. I always have been a ball magnet though).
I had a love/hate relationship with my breasts ever since.
I learned soon enough that bras are expensive — particularly colourful, lacy, feminine ones with enough support in my (large) size. While my smaller, slim friends could just pop into a store and buy whatever they wanted, my mother had to drag me to a specialized store where they sold extremely expensive flesh coloured harnesses in my size. At some point, I rebelled and insisted on more feminine ‘boob wear’. After some research, I actually found brands carrying luxurious, colourful bras with matching slips in larger sizes. However expensive, I loved those first lingerie sets complimenting my budding curves and wore them to tatters. To this day, buying a new bra takes a serious investment, so whenever money is tight, a new bra is not exactly my top priority and I resort, once again, to my mother’s hand-me-downs. It is not as I need to seduce anyone. As far as my Husband is concerned, he’d rather see my “girls” out of their restraints and into his hands anyway.
That I learned to love my girls is mainly due only to my Husband’s enthusiasm for them. My Husband, for that matter, is the first and only man who treated my sizeable breasts with both gusto and the proper respect. Through his eyes, I have come to appreciate them.
And now they’re getting even bigger.
Oh, I am not kidding myself. Breasts are mostly made out of fat and going through The Change, a redistribution of body fat takes place. I have been observing this for a while now, and it seems my ample fat supply is not done redistributing just yet. Lately my bras started feeling smaller and it has become increasingly uncomfortable sleeping on my belly, as I have loved to do since infancy. Nowadays, it feels as if there are a couple of decent sized grapefruits in the way — particularly ironic, since I recently started using body lotion with essential oils of grapefruit and palmarosa in it.
My experience with aromatherapy in general and essential plant oils in particular taught me that plants contain their own hormones. Only logical, when you remember that a plant is a living being and, like us, a virtual chemical plant (pun intended). One of my most popular home-made aromatherapy products was the massage oil containing essential oils of ylang-ylang and geranium, specifically mixed for massaging breasts (which I, of course, aptly named “Boob Oil”). The herbal hormones in these particular essential oils promote growth and firmness in a woman’s breasts. I haven’t (yet) pursued this in depth, but it strikes me that the particular combination of oils in my new body lotion has a similar effect.
“Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies. […]”
― Maya Angelou, Phenomenal Woman: Four Poems Celebrating Women
When everything else seems to be drooping, it feels pretty good to have something that’s still perky. As it happens, I have two things. I’m cherishing them for as long as they last.
This post was originally published on Medium in my publication The Changing Blog on January 24, 2020.