Musings upon heaving bosoms and compliments.

Yup, retrospective post here. A little while back I was in the pub with Hairy and a few friends having a few drinks, chatting and catching up as you do on a night out. The thing is that I was made very uncomfortable by something that I physically cannot change about myself which got commented on twice that night by different people.

You’ve probably all seen what I look like now, and you may not have noticed or just may not care, but it turns out I’m in possession of a large bosom. It’s nowhere near the size it was when I was at my heaviest, but apparently it’s still not the smallest. I don’t notice my chest on a regular basis – it’s just a thing attached to my front that weighs me down when I try to run, and tries to hit me in the face while doing yoga.

Back to the pub. That night I was wearing a lovely new red dress which I didn’t think was too revealing, but apparently was because I had two of my friends comment on my chest and how huge it was; not just in passing but at least one of them was rather extended. I know they didn’t mean anything by it and that it was just meant jokingly, but I really don’t like people making a big deal (pun not intended) about the size of my breasts. There, I said it. It came about because we were talking about a fancy dress party, and who should go as which Avengers/Marvel character (think X-Men), and my bosom got fixated upon as a defining feature. I was assigned Rogue.

Both of them were men – not that that really mattered, it makes me uncomfortable when my female friends make comments too. Some compliments are lovely – I got one “You look really pretty with your hair up”, that made me smile because it was unexpected. Hairy is pretty good at compliments, but I feel a little bit like he’s duty bound to compliment me

I don’t like the attention being drawn to my breasts – it’s not complimentary in my eyes, and it’s not simply an observation. An observation could be kept to yourself, not repeated a few times until the whole table is aware of the size of my chest and I want to hide in a corner. I can’t help my physical appearance – you are in full control of your mouth and can shut up whenever you want.

That said, I’m not going to hide myself under a mountain of cloth because that just looks bad! C’mon, large bosom under a roll neck? It doesn’t even hide the fact you’re saddled with large breasts, it just hides the cleavage.

Long story short: don’t make comments on people’s breasts. Mine are large, yay woop. You have eyes to see, and a mouth to make me unhappy. My chest size gives me trouble finding bras, occasional back ache and don’t even go to where a canyon is created by trying to wear a bag cross body. I used to be proud of my chest – it was (in my head) my one attractive feature: I was “the one with the big boobs”, but now I want to be appreciated for more than that.

If you want to compliment me, compliment me on my sense of humour, my good grades, my eyes, smile, piercings, good taste in books (and men), my cooking… There’s a whole host of things that won’t make me uncomfortable – basically anything breast or weight related makes me edgy. Weight and body image issues for the win!

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