"I Want a Breast Lift" & "Booby Image Issues"

The up and down swings in my weight have had an effect on more than just my body image and appearance; it has affected the size and shape of my breasts. Every time I lose weight my breasts get a little bit smaller. I have gone from a 36FF to a 34G to a 32G in a year and a half. Then, I gained weight and went back from a 32G to a 34G.

Yes, I fail the pencil test. For the record, that pencil test is better suited to see if a B cup or smaller is "perky." If you can put a pencil under your breasts at a 34G and have it fall you must have implants or magical breasts.

Right now, I am not happy with my weight or my breasts. I would like to lose 35 pounds so I can be 135 pounds. My goal to lose weight this summer burst when I found out my ex-boyfriend AND a classmate died this summer. I started to comfort eat. I have it a bit under control now with the help of a counselor, but I am still 165-170 pounds again (earlier in 2012 I weighed 148 pounds). You can always tell when I am stressed out or in mourning when my weight increases. You can tell when I am happy because I lose weight. I am annoyingly predictable that way.

So, my breasts aren't sagging much, but there is some sagging. Still, I have to wonder if comparing myself to augmented Hustler's models is the way to determine my level of sagging. My nipples still point up, but the fleshy tops of my breasts are not as full as they used to be.

In a bra I like what I see, out of a bra, I am only moderately okay with what I see. I may have a breast lift after I lose weight, especially if this sagging gets much worse in the next two years.

Being a 34G can be a hassle. First, everyone assumes that my breasts are big only because I'm so overweight. Not true! When I dropped to 130-135 pounds back in 2009 I was still busting out of my biggest bra; a 36DD (it was far too big in the band and not big enough in the cups, so my real size back then is a mystery). My breasts have just gotten bigger as I aged. At age 29 I dropped down to a 32G, which is smaller than a 34G both in the band and in the cups, but since I turned 30 I am now too wide for the 32 band and too booby for the 32G cup.

Other complaints include: back pain, chronic slouching, chronic scolding from my mother when I stand up straight ("stop sticking out your chest" she yells), chronic wardrobe malfunctions, bras that are too tight and leave indentations along my rib cage, bras that are too loose and leave me with worse back pain, spending 5 minutes every morning deciding just how much cleavage I should show that day and what bra would maximize or minimize my cleavage, not being able to cross my arms because it makes me have massive cleavage (and this is my natural reflex when I am self-conscious or feeling insecure), not being able to run without running out of breathe and enduring tons of boob sweat, having to spend 80 dollars on a bra that fits (and that is just the starting pay for a bra that fits; the better the bra, the more money it costs. 90-130 dollars is a 'good bra'), wanting hot guys to look at my breasts, getting annoyed when much much older men stare at my breasts or make lewd comments about them, trying to ignore when my professors spend more time staring at my boobs then anything else in the room, that awkward moment when I am walking up to their desks with my exam and their eyes are glued to my chest the whole time to the point where I want to just chuck my exam at them from my seat and roll out the door in a ball....the list goes on. It is understandable that having a bigger than average body part(s) can cause people to become curious, but sometimes it is a bit maddening. I start to feel like I am just a pair of boobs walking around waiting for someone to impregnate me. I resent when a male that I am not attracted to says something dirty or keeps staring at my boobs. I should wear a shirt that says "if you read this you better be moderately attractive, within my age range, and not married, or else rich and intelligent." Maybe my standards are too high?

Oh well. I cannot imagine a life without boobs. I used to be pretty flat before the age of 22, so I can still remember preening for the mirror and imagining what a C cup would look like on me. Now I am a G cup. So, for now I'll just go watch a BBC documentary called "My big breasts and me," a short film that follows pretty women with big boobs as they wander around complaining about their big boobs.

Yeah, today is definitely a major cleavage day. I'm pulling out my mio destino bra for this morning. Have a great day! May the boob force be with you!

Spring Break, Mental Health, & how I gained Weight

I am being transferred from an intensive out-care program to the county's relaxed mental health care system. I am not sure how I feel about this, as memories of this county facility still haunts me --- being sent away repeatedly and then finally getting to see one befuddled doctor who wrote the incorrect prescription and left me without medicine for a good 2 months (while I was floridly psychotic).

Hopefully, I can make all my doctor's appointments without fail, otherwise there might be a three month wait period.

Wish me luck, I'll need it if this new care program is like the last time I remember.

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Good news = I am president of a club and I actually did get our event approved.
Bad news = I had no spring break because I have been working on arrangements for the event.
More bad news=I did like 2 pages of a 15 page paper only. I still need to do my programming homework.
Good news = I had a cup of chai and I'm feeling good,
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Lately, I've been reading a lot of race relations articles and I am feeling a little queasy from thinking about how many anti-immigrant/anti-minority people are running around out there. I'll keep it to myself for now, since I don't feel like going off on some political rant.

Ah heck, I'll do it anyways. marriage =. Immigration reform. Break the glass ceiling. Down with neo-nazis. Up with Bill Maher. Okay, I'm done.

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On my weight
OMG. I gained weight while taking two hours of martial arts twice a week! Four hours per week for nothing! Nothing! I now am at the heaviest I have been since I first modified my diet intake 2 years ago; 171 pounds. Yes, it's technically in the obese range. Yes, I hate my body (except for my boobs which have returned to a plump, seductive G cup). Yes, I gained a whopping 20 pounds in under 5 months. I don't know what to do. The more I think about my weight the more despondent I get and the more I want to comfort eat. I ate a doughnut today. I hate myself for eating that doughnut. The long walk to the doughnut store and back home only burned off a quarter of the calories I consumed in doughnut. I ate half my dinner today, but I didn't use my stationary bike or my punching bag as exercise, so I feel bloated and disgusting. My dinner was a couple of tablespoons of white rice and some nopales my mom made. My lunch was that doughnut. For breakfast I had a bowl of oatmeal with a bunch of fresh blueberries. Then, right after breakfast, my mom came home from taking the elderly neighbor lady to the grocery store. The elderly lady, in her naive kindness, bought my mom a tray of mini cupcakes. I literally doubled over when I saw them. My kryptonite. This is the reason why I don't buy any chips, baked goods, ice cream, or frozen pizzas. I have issues with moderation. I cannot eat a little handful of chips, or just 1 mini cupcake. I will literally flee the kitchen and hide in my room, without the treat. Then, for hours, I will think about the treat. Eventually, I break down, sneak into the kitchen, grab the entire bag/carton/tray of treats and secretly eat in my bedroom. This is the reason why I always buy roma tomatoes, cheese, and tea instead. When there are no sugary, sodium-laced, greasy alternatives, I eat quite healthy. But when a naively kind neighbor lady buys us mini cupcakes, I crumble after an hour of pouting on my bed and trying to distract myself by watching BBC documentaries on the internet. Yes, I ate 3 mini-cupcakes, and then I couldn't stop myself. I walked to the doughnut store and bought a coffee and a doughnut. I came home. 2 more mini-cupcakes. I despise mini-cupcakes. They must be walked into the jungle and left for the pumas. Down with mini-sprinkle cupcakes!!

I like my boobs. They are plump. They are the only part of my body I am fond of. I will now end this little blog entry by writing a positive, self-affirming statement about my fattened up body. My boobs are awesome. Guys always stare at my boobs. Sometimes, women stare at my boobs, too. Sometimes I think I must have spilled something on my blouse and people are just wondering what the stain is, which is why they are staring so intensely for so long, but then I look down and nope, just my boobs. Then, there is this awkward moment when both of us are standing there staring down at my boobs. I think I am kind of flattered. Still, it's like, what, am I wearing a dirty shirt? Are my nipples popping out? Is there like a stain that looks like a milk leak or something??

33 Band, 41 Bust: Or How I Lost My Boobs

Last year I was around 170 pounds with a bust measurement of 35 beneath the bust and 44 around the bust. I hated my weight but I loved the fullness of my breasts. 44 just sounded so nice, like boobs that shot out into outer-space.

I did the periodic check on my body. I lost quite a bit of weight. Today I weighed 159 pounds, but what surprised me was my bust measurements. I lost weight---everywhere! From a 36 inch measurement beneath my bust I went down to a 33 inch measurement. Worse, I went from a 44 inch bust line to a 41 inch bust line. I checked three times, yes, 41 inches when pulled tightly across my bust. Where did the remaining 3 inches go?

Many women complain about the size of their breasts being unsatisfactory. They are self-conscious about their breast size. Or else they complain about back pain. I do get back pain, sore breasts, and that self-conscious posture where the shoulders are hunched. Yet I liked my breast size. More importantly, I had spent a few hundred dollars finding bras that fit my size (my size used to be a 36FF in UK sizes). Now what do I do? I have hundreds of dollars worth of bras that don't fit properly! They are suddenly too wide in the band, causing back pain, and those dreaded wrinkles in the cups have appeared, indicating I need to go down a cup size.

This is very awkward for me. My weight goes up, my weight goes down, my boobs engorge, my boobs shrink. Now, I not only have to purchase another two hundred dollars of bras (with which I can buy all of four bras since each costs minimum fifty bucks), but I have to go change all my facebook and myspace pictures to show the lighter, flatter me.

I am getting financial aid in August when I enter a Master's program. Likely, I will have to spend quite a number of Benjamins to find new bras that are flattering, lifting, tight in the band, and comfortable in the cup. I will go to Nordstroms and get properly fitted, since I am really tired of playing the guessing game with expensive bras. I will likely be a 34FF or a 34F instead of the 34G that just barely fits me right now.

Men are lucky. They buy boxers or briefs and they never have to get their goods fitted in order to buy the right pair of briefs. Women, on the other hand, are a custom fit. That would be fine if being a custom order didn't cost so much money!

On the up side, despite losing 3 inches, I also lost weight which makes me look bustier in some weird circus mirror way. Just the other day I was at a store when some man said something to me about my breasts. While this comment was unwanted and made me uncomfortable, it did show me that my boobs have not entirely disappeared off the face of the planet, for better or for worse.

Thanks for reading! :)

How I learned to Love My Psychic Carnage

 *content warning: drug use, the cinema of Takashi Miike, bra size. *

The woman with the blonde hair and the red dress stands facing the camera. Her head is cocked as she reads her lines off a placard which the camera captures and zooms in until the characters fill the screen. This is a bizarre world of Yakuza murder, animal-headed men, and absurdity so profound it causes a mild headache. 

This is Gozu, a film by master director, Takashi Miike.

This movie is one of my top, all-time favorite movies because it reminds me of my life. I watched Gozu around the time I was an unmedicated pothead dating a drug dealing, gun-toting alcoholic who would later be caught by undercover narcotics agents and wind up spending all his illicit drug profits on a good attorney. I think I was 19 at the time. On the surface, I was a rather boring wallflower; a cashier at a bottom-feeding pharmacy, a skinny, flat-chested teenager with a predilection for marijuana. Beneath it, I was a fan of Miike movies, not because his movies shocked me, but because they reminded me of my psychic carnage, the invisible wounds of a damaged life.

Why am I writing this? Simply because my psychiatrist will not authorize a refill of my anti-depressants and you, the poor, ensnared reader, are the one thing keeping me afloat in this lagoon of angst.

Also, I want to show off. I am no longer that skinny, flat-chested marijuana smoking, drug-dealer dating screw up. Now I’m an overweight, 34G cup sober nutcase, 4 days away from a bachelor’s degree from an accredited University. I even got accepted into a graduate program. But some things never change. That nugget of damaged nerves still thrives in the nether regions of my wounded soul. I have learned to love that damage…it is what keeps me humble and always eager to improve, as if to change my personality would somehow enable me to erase the fractures of my past.

Miike is a genius. Why have you not watched any of his movies? Pardon the illogical leaps from topic to topic, but I am a skitz and my train of thought has a lot of stop-overs.

Shopping For Bras When Busty

Shopping for bras when busty is an expensive endeavor. You would think that the lack of cotton stuffing that makes your cup size look bigger would equal a cheaper price. But apparently not, the added features of push-up bras, padded bras and water bras do not come close in price to making a sturdy bra for larger breasted women. The latter is way more expensive to purchase, though they never have water or cotton padding, or any real push-up structure. 

I feel like talking about breasts today.

My breasts are a little heavier than the norm. Then again, I am heavier than the norm, coming in at 163 pounds and only 5' 1" or 5' 2". It only makes sense that my breasts would be heavier, as breasts are largely tissue and fat, and I have lots of both! 

Finding the right bra is like finding the right man---some don't fit right, some fit okay for a while, others you just try on and then never bother with them again....so it goes. Right now I am wearing a bra that just came in the mail. I ordered it on amazon dot com. It is a transparent, lace-trimmed Panache bra. I got this bra on sale and it still cost me over thirty bucks. It is a 34G. It fits well, in fact, I might be in love. I wore a 36F bra by Mio Destino to school today and I had a lot of cleavage. The day before I wore a 36FF bra and I still had a lot of cleavage. Sometimes, I wear a 36G bra and a 38DDD bra. The 38DDD bras are all too loose in the band and they do not support my breasts, so I quit wearing them. The 36G bra is great for total coverage, but it doesn't let me have any cleavage. 

Bras are so hard to figure out. Right now I really like the fit of the 34G bra---it is tight enough in the band to keep my posture correct and it fits snugly (without causing that unsightly bulging effect). Right now my measurements are 34.5 inches beneath the bust and 45 inches around the bust. That is about 10 inches, slightly more, of a difference, so you can imagine that my back gets sore if I am not properly supported. 

Yes, I know, some might feel that bras are a hold-over from antiquated times when women were kept in corsets and given love seats to faint onto, but try doing 2 minutes of jumping up and down for a judo class warm-up without a heavy duty sports bra and then tell me bras are a feminist issue. Lipstick, maybe. Bras, no way! Bras are like shoes for my boobs!