Puberty is part and parcel of life. So were the nicknames I lived with.

 

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As my chest developed, I was given nicknames that plainly explained my bust size. How … creative. On an irrelevant note, I also name my boobs: boob 1 and boob 2. I, too, can be very creative.

My female friends and acquaintances always say the same things to me:

“You are so lucky to have a full chest! I want also don’t have.”

“Why don’t you flaunt your assets? Show a bit of cleavage, lah!”

“Dua neh bu, your olang (orange) want to come out liao!”

And the most commonly asked question: “Wah, your breasts take from where? Father or mother (father’s or mother’s side)?”

It would have been very interesting if I had got them from my father.

Any other questions/statements are essentially the same, just phrased differently. But I have to be very cautious with the way I answer them. My responses may potentially injure my friends’ self-esteem and make them feel worse about their lack of boobs. In other words, I have boobs and I need to tread on wafer-thin ice. Life is such.

On the other hand, my male friends and acquaintances are quieter. But that’s only because they are too preoccupied with my massiveness. Sometimes they earnestly ask how I am even able to walk, with my two heavy weights. And I am like … what has the movement of my limbs got to do with my boobs? It would a lot more logical to ask about my SPINE’s ability to support my large fatballs.

Unfortunately, men are simple-minded creatures. My groom-to-be might be one of them. But I still love him anyway.

When I was planning my wedding, my close girlfriends asked me what kind of gown I was searching for. The moment I said I was looking for something with a high neckline, they gasped in horror.

I thought I touched a nerve.

Turns out they felt that my preferred choice was totally wrong and I should totally reveal my cleavage. After all, it is something every girl wants … no?

Truth be told, I always feel self-conscious whenever my boobs decide to peek out from my lower-cut tops (which, incidentally, don’t look that low on most people) and greet leering eyes. My boobs swing precariously if I do any sport, as if they were about to flying out of my chest and perhaps land on a passerby. A picturesque thought, isn’t it?

Also, shopping is usually a drag because most clothes either fit my body but somehow my boobs seem too eager to burst out.

But, there is a silver lining to everything. Because of my full rack, I am able to fit into bralette tops much better than girls with a smaller bust. Furthermore, being well endowed provides me with that curve whenever I am in the mood to look sexy.

You can say that I have a love-hate relationship with my boobies! Feel the same way? Leave a comment and share your woes!

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