Back into my boobs

For a while I wasn’t happy about my new boobs. For those of you who are new to this blog, I recently had a natural breast enhancement. No surgery required. I’m pregnant and the boob job took care of itself.

I wasn’t happy with my breasts at first. They were more than a handful (no pun intended) and required new bras and new concern that I was popping out of my regular tops and dresses.

Today however, I made peace with my extra large friends and I have to say, I’m kind of excited about them. While I always enjoyed having large boobs, I now have the kind of the porn star variety. Turns out, it can be a lot of fun. I’m enjoying admiring myself in the mirror again. I don’t know how long they’ll last but I’m looking forward to enjoying them as long as I’ve got them.

Another Oops at the Office

Bras, nipples, and cleavage at work seems to be a big topic in the big boobed community.  For example, 3D wrote about nippleitis a few months back in one of her very first posts.  In fact, she wrote about it twice.  I weighed in, with a slightly different view.  Nippleitis isn’t the only problem — sometimes we choose the wrong bra.

That happened to me today.  In my hurried state this morning, I accidentally put on a very lacy bra under a very thin shirt.  It actually occurred to me that maybe I was wearing the wrong bra, but I was too rushed to check myself out in the mirror.  I didn’t realize it until I went to the bathroom before lunch, after I had a long meeting with my coworkers.

Wardrobe malfunctions are hard at work, because we aren’t amongst strangers whom we will never see again, nor are we among our friends with whom we feel comfortable. Instead, the viewers are people we respect, or should respect, or who should ideally respect us.  And the bigger the boob, the more opportunities for malfunction.

I hope when I leave my job I won’t be known as the girl who always wore the wrong bra.

-DeeDee

Bras, who really cares?

Sometimes I think it’s funny how much time and effort we put into finding the greatest bra. I mentioned my trip to the wizard a little while ago and I am loving my purchases. Every time I look in the mirror I think my breasts look just perfect, particularly the part that come up just over the top of the cup. They are well supported and sexy, a great combination.

But I realized today that men probably don’t really care at all how perfect I look in my bra, they just want me to take it off, right?  DeeDee talked about this in reference to sexy bras asking whether they have a purpose.  If they don’t, why do we spend so much money and effort on them?  I guess I’m just doing it for myself.  If no one else, at least I am enjoying the view.

-3D

N.Y. v. L.A.

Remember the contour bras and my befuddlement about them? Well, something else in the article caught my attention — the comments of a lingerie designer bemoaning the trend:

“My feeling is that these days, rather than someone like Janis Joplin being revered, idolized, it’s more about the shoe or the bag of the moment,” she said. “It’s about labels, names, branding. Everyone has their hair straightened, the perfect jeans, the right cellphone and accessories. It’s almost like New York is turning into L.A.; there is a lack of acceptance of natural self.” Though New York women do not appear to be embracing surgical implants with the same zeal as their sisters in the West … yet?

I lived in New York for ten years and periodically people would tell me that they couldn’t believe I was from Los Angeles and that I seemed “so” New York. I was always kind of insulted by that comment, thinking it was code for short, unruly dark hair, a little too neurotic, maybe a bit uptight, or really, just not that hot.

But maybe they were really just talking about my boobs.

Growing Boobs

I remember in fifth or sixth grade, there were a handful of girls who were more developed than the rest. In retrospect, they probably were an A cup, but the very fact that they wore bras at all caught the attention of us flat-chested girls and boob-obsessed boys. But, I saw some of these girls five, six years later, and they were still all A cups, or at the most a modest B. It was like these girls just reached womanhood early and stayed put.

On the other hand, there were also a handful of girls who remained flat at 13, flat at 14, flat at 15, and flat at 16. But miraculously, the summer between 11th and 12th grade, they became DDs. I’m not joking. I’ve seen this happen. Breast-enlargement rumors were flying around school.

I took an entirely different path. I just started growing, and growing, and growing. In fact, I think I was still growing when I was 18 or 19 because I have a distinct memory of buying a jacket freshman year of college that no longer fit across the chest by the time I was a junior.

Now, I don’t know if the busty sixth graders or the flat eleventh graders were aberrations, or if I am, but I’m curious to know what the normal breast growth trajectory is.

-DeeDee

Boobs and Sex: Some preliminary thoughts

This is first in what I hope will be a series of postings on boobs and sex.

I had sex on Saturday night. It was enjoyable for the obvious reasons, but one less-obvious perk was that it provided a wonderful research opportunity for this blog. This may be crazy, but, swear to god, I actually thought about this blog at one point during the evening. I mean, during the act of sex itself, I thought about blogging.

He was on top. His hands were on the bed on either side of me and his torso was pushed away from me, perhaps at a sixty degree angle or so. Anyway, because he was, you know, thrusting with gusto, and because his body was not pressed against mine, my boobs were bopping back and forth. I wouldn’t say it hurt or anything, but I felt myself becoming very self-conscious. (This was when I thought, “aha, blog time!”)

Now, I don’t know how much of my self-consciousness had to do with the fact that my breasts were moving about kind of awkwardly, and how much was really just a general discomfort with the intense intimacy of being stared at by my partner during sex. I met him only that night, which may have contributed to the awkwardness I felt. A million thoughts were running through my head:

Do all breasts move like that during sex, or only those that pass a certain size threshold? Is he enjoying the view? Is he specifically enjoying the view of large breasts dancing around? Why isn’t he making eye contact with me? Is it because he is enjoying the view? Okay, I’m going to look into his eyes. Is he in this position because it feels good or because he likes the way it looks? Am I thinking way too much about my breasts? Oh, that feels good. Do I actually like the fact that my boobs are jiggling? Why am I so weird? Should I blog about this? Wow, I’m crazy. Wow, he’s pretty hot. Oh, looks like I’m on top now.

Clearly, as I warned, it’s difficult to sort out the boob-specific thoughts from all of my other neuroses. However I do wonder if large-breasted women have common experiences in sex different from smaller-breasted women, and if their sex partners notice differences in having sex with small-boobed girls vs. large-boobed girls.

-DeeDee

BBB Field trip: I’m off to see the Wizard

I took a road trip today to do some research for your reading pleasure. I ended up somewhere over the mountains, way up high; my destination was a store I had heard of once in a lullaby. OK, I didn’t exactly hear about it in a lullaby but the place is called “The Wizard of Bras” so I thought I might try to play with as many puns as possible. But before I talk about my trip, it’s time I came clean about something.

I was off to see the Wizard for more than just research. It’s time for me to buy new bras because I’ve had a problem in the past couple of weeks. My boobs have been growing at an alarming rate in a way they never have before. I wish I could say that this was due to some magical pill I had invented or because those “I must, I must, I must increase my bust” exercises I did in the sixth grade finally paid off but the truth is: this half of the Big Boob Blog is pregnant. And, as a result, I’ve been popping out of almost every bra I own from expensive to cheap. I’m three months in and it’s time for me to get a handle on all of this extra boobage.

So, back to my wizardly experience. I knew I could not handle my new situation on my own and I’d heard those who go to see the Wizard leave with something more useful than a heart or a brain or courage: the elusive perfect fitting bra. So, I followed the yellow brick road across several miles and freeways until I found Oz. When I got there I was sort of disappointed; I was expecting the Emerald City and what I found was a hole in the wall on the side of the highway that sold everything from bras to feather boas to crotchless panties to a game called “Pin the Macho on the Male.” Oz was a little trashier than I thought. Still, their website said they carried some of my favorites like Fantasie of England and Wacoal so I figured I’d stick around.

Just like in the movie, there was a long wait to see the Wizard. I had to fill out a form with my needs and was told it would be 30-60 minutes before I would be served. Perhaps this is a tactic to weed out those not strong enough to face the Wizard? It didn’t matter to me. I write a blog about boobs and I have a reputation to protect so I wasn’t going anywhere.

When my name and number were finally called, the Wizard, (who turned out to be a petite blonde named Holly) escorted me into the back and got down to work with a tape measure. I explained that I had been fitted many times and that I wear a 38DDD but I knew I had grown a little bit. As it turns out, that would be the understatement of the year.

When the Wizard was through measuring and sizing me up with her eyes, she made her ruling. “I’m going to have you start by trying a 38G” she explained. That’s right, you read that correctly. A 38G. G as in girl. G as in grandiose. G as in GOOD GOD how did I ever GET so big? I remember my shock and horror when I moved up from a DD to a DDD for the first time. I enjoy having big boobs but I never wanted them freakishly big. This news was almost too much to take. . .and then the Wizard hit me with the kicker: “in the next few weeks and months, you’re only going to get bigger and bigger.”

I don’t know what I was expecting when I went in there but not this. After a few moments of shock, I gathered my thoughts and emotions and held my head (and boobs) high. OK, I said. I’ll try anything you’ve got. The Wizard disappeared and returned with a 38H. H as in the letter that comes after G. Why were the letters going up? Had I grown a cup size while she was picking out bras behind the curtain? The Wizard explained that she wanted to put me in something with room to grow. Fortunately, I was swimming in the H and we agreed it wasn’t necessary. . .yet.

I tried on a bunch of other suitors, many of which made me way too pointy. I told the Wizard I wanted more of a molded and less of a Madonna fit. Some of the next few were pretty but just too lacy. I was beginning to give up hope. Then, another woman behind the curtain emerged with the winner. Much to my surprise, it was a bra I blogged about just a few weeks ago: the Fantasie Smoothing Balcony bra. Only this time instead of a DDD or and E, I took home two in a 38G. If I couldn’t have my normal size, at least I could have an old friend by my side who was ready to take on my ever-expanding chest. As an added bonus, I also picked up an awesome black sports bra made by Anita.

When it was all over, I decided me and my boobs needed a nap. I woke up to find that my day wasn’t a dream at all and I now have not only a heart, brain, and courage, but the support I need to get though the next six months in style and comfort. I’ll keep you updated on my progress and my sizing. And even though I just cleaned out my bra drawer to make room for my new purchases, I’m keeping my name (3D) for now. There’s only so much change one boob blogger can take in a day. I may not be in Kansas anymore but I am just not ready to admit I’m in G-town yet.

-3D