This is one of my favorite pictures of the weekend:
But this was BEFORE I cropped it in Instagram. When I first saw it my eyes almost popped out of my head….I did a double take….and when I showed it to my mom her eyes widened and she just gave a surprised, “OH!”
Here is the BEFORE picture:
For those of you that don’t know me….I NEVER had boobs. NEVER. It was a source of constant entertainment at the dinner table and was discussed with way too much frequency.
The Optimist (my brother):”Dude, your chest looks like a dudes.”
Me: “Dad! Tell him to stop!”
Dad: “Optimist, stop confirming that your sisters chest looks like a dudes.”
That may not have been the exact conversation, but pretty close. One time I left the top of my bathing suit at home during a school beach trip. A friend was coming down the next day and I asked her to pick up the bikini top for me. My dad left it in the mailbox with a note that said, “Do you think anyone will really notice if she doesn’t wear it?”
That’s right. My DAD left that note.
My mom has always been well endowed. So was my Granny. And my Nana on my Dad’s side wasn’t so lacking in the cleavage department. I seemed to be missing the big boob gene.
I, however, was not all that sad about my A cup sized girls. I was a runner and running with big boobs takes heavy duty uber sports bras. I could practically run braless. I could sleep comfortably on my stomach. If I wore a shirt with no back, a halter top, strapless- I could just forgo the bra altogether rather than look for some wack-o strapless halter top strappy bra thing.
I was fine with it.
And then over the years, things changed. I’m not so sure when I noticed that I wasn’t fitting into my bras as well anymore or that I had to get a larger size shirt than typical.
Finally I went with my mom to Nordstrom’s to get fitted for a new bra, after watching an episode of Oprah where they talked about how most women were wearing the wrong size bra, and would you look at that.
What the what?
I had ALWAYS fit soundly in at most a B cup. Okay, maybe a C on a good day. But a D??? My mom was as astounded as I was. And this may be odd, but the first person I called was my dad.
Me: “HA! No more flat chest jokes!”
Dad: “Well, I was wondering how you got so many beads at Mardi Gras.”
And This was all before I had kids, so getting pregnant was not a factor. I don’t know, maybe the boob making department of my development took a nap all through puberty and woke up when I was an adult and said, “Damn! We forgot to inflate!” Well, they more than made up for it.
At my High School reunion someone asked me, “Where did you get these? You never had these in High School!”
All I know is that after kids they just went crazy. One is way bigger than the other, I call her Godzilla. When I got pregnant it was just ridiculous. I had no idea what to do with them. My husband knew what he wanted to do with them, but his suggestions were quickly shot down.
All of a sudden I need to get those crazy uber supportive bras. I can’t sleep on my stomach. I have the “boob gap”. You know, when you wear a button down shirt and that button that is right between your boobs stretches making the shirt gap open above and below it? Boob gap. I can’t go braless when I wear strapless…hell I can’t wear strapless. I’ll be too nervous the ladies will make an unannouned appearance.
Sigh. Even after years of having these larger ladies, I still wake up and wonder where in the world they came from. My husband STILL says he has some ideas….
Have a great crazy day!