Life as a 40DDDDDDDDDDD
Glo's writer reveals what it's really like to have super-sized breasts.
I've read the blogs dedicated to breast reductions, and many of the women rave, "It's fantastic! I wish I had done it sooner!" Still, it is inconceivable to me that anyone would undergo major surgery just to fit better in clothes. So when a woman (formerly 42DD) bemoans the struggle of shopping for bras and bathing suits and writes that, thanks to her new size, "feelings of embarrassment and self-consciousness are gone," I have to wonder if therapy might not work more wonders than surgery.
After years of self-reflection and my own therapy, I can now freely admit that my identity is informed mainly by my breasts. After all, they're such a large part of me—pun intended. In personal ads, I have sometimes described myself as a "brainy, busty babe." I'm used to being the most well-endowed woman in the room. I was once at a party when cult film star Kitten Natividad (38HH) sashayed in. We eyed each other warily. It was actually funny how competitive we were.
So, yes, breasts are important to my self-image and feelings of femininity—and probably yours, too, if you're female and honest.
Regardless of why or how breasts evolved the way they did (a topic worthy of an article all its own), their fundamental use is unequivocal: Breasts feed our young. Whether they're large or small has no impact on breastfeeding. There's more societal pressure than ever to get bigger, rounder, firmer, perkier breasts. There are boys and men who have never seen real breasts not Photoshopped, airbrushed or otherwise enhanced.
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