Bet that caught your attention, didn’t it, gentle readers? I want to open today’s post with a small note: anyone is welcome to read this, but the post really is geared more towards women. Also, if you comment, please try and be mature about it.
When I was younger, I had a lot of health problems that resulted in lots of time spent in hospitals and lots of fun tests and scans. My mom and I joked that, after all of the tests and scans, I should either be glowing green or have incredible superpowers.
This summer, I’ve decided that I do, in fact, have a superpower. And it’s not a very good one either.
I have Mutant Boobs.
I was a late bloomer, you see. A very late bloomer. I don’t think I even started wearing a bra until 7th grade. It didn’t bother me though. I never stood in front of the mirror, lamenting my lack of chest while stuffing my training bra with tissues; I never asked for a padded bra to make it look like I had something, I was perfectly fine with what I had, even though I didn’t actually have anything.
When I did start, however, it was with a bang. A very, very big bang.
In 8th grade, I started with a respectable jump from an AA to a B. And I decided I rather liked having boobs, my t-shirts looked a lot nicer with something to fill them out. I was very happy with my nice, respectable B Cup.
My body, however, had different ideas. Just before I started Freshman year, I had another outward growth spurt that resulted in my jumping another cup size. My guy friends started realizing that I was, in fact, a girl. And were very vocal about it, much to my girly horror.
I spent my first two years of high school with a respectable C Cup. And, once again, my body had different ideas. By the time I was a junior, I’d had another growth spurt that resulted in another Bra Shopping Spree; this time for D Cup bras. The boobs I had come to accept and even grow to love were my most hated feature.
Because they had become a pain, literally. Tiny me at 5′ 3″ and weighing in at 120″ was carrying about 8 lbs (according to my doctor) of dead weight on my chest. It resulted in terrible back pains (not helped by my heavy book bag), neck pain, and headaches. My only consolation was that, when I consulted my doctor about this, she said there was very little chance that they’d grow any more.
This, gentle readers, is what has lead me to believe I have Mutant Boobs. You see, my body once again decided to do the complete opposite of what was expected.
My freshman year of high school I started having horrible, debilitating migraines. They got to a point where, when one hit, I had to shut down all my electronics, turn out the lights, cover my window, and sleep them off in a completely dark, silent room. I’d had migraines before, but they usually didn’t render me unconscious.
When I consulted my doctor, she suggested I get fitted for a bra, because if The Girls weren’t being held up properly, then there was a good chance my headaches were being caused by muscle strain (which made sense, because the headaches started in the back of my neck and radiated up into my skull with the force of a sledgehammer).
So, I made a trip to Victoria’s Secret and discovered something absolutely horrifying.
My boobs had grown again. I was now a 32DD. The back pains got worse, but, since The Girls weren’t pulling down on me as badly as they had been in a D Cup bra, the headaches abated slightly.
My boobs became a running joke between me and my friends, and occasionally my mom. People kept telling me that women paid thousands of dollars to pump their breasts full of silicone to get boobs like mine.
“Why?” I demanded. ”Why would someone want to have dead weight hanging on their chest that will only give them back problems and headaches?”
Take Brazilian model and actress Sheyla Hershey, for example. Hershey set the record for the largest breasts in Brazil in 2008 (maybe even the world, I didn’t look it up). After eight surgeries in Houston, Texas and a gallon of silicone, Hershey’s breasts were a whopping 34FFF.
And she wanted them to be bigger, something the law prohibited in Texas because only so much silicone can be pumped into breasts so as to prevent implant complications later on, including infection. But Hershey assured reporters in an interview that she wasn’t done.
Was she successful in making them even bigger? I don’t know. I can’t find anything online about that. But I really hope she wasn’t because, if my pain at a 32F (there was another growth spurt just a few months ago; again: Mutant Boobs) is anything to go by, I can’t even imagine anything bigger, let alone a 34 FFF.
In this article, Dr. Andrew Haig, director of the spine program at the University of Michigan explains that the back pain is often the result of gravity saying, “A lot of times the pain is in the back of the rib cage and the spine area is because women are trying hard to arch their back so they don’t fall forward because of the weight of their breasts.”
Well, that certainly explains why my posture sucks. If you spend so much time and effort trying to arch your back, it starts to really, really, really hurt. I can’t sit up straight anymore for long periods of time because the pain gets so bad.
So, when women tell me that they’d kill to have boobs like mine, I usually just grimace and say I’d kill to get rid of them. I get a lot of weird looks and questions, but after I explain the pains of big boobs, they’re usually pretty quick to reconsider their dreams of a boob job.
I can’t understand why women would want to undergo the pain of surgery to have bigger boobs that will most likely cause more pain later on in life. I’ve read that not all big bobbed women have pain or medical problems because of their boobs, but everyone I’ve talked to who’s in the same boat as me agrees:
Big boobs aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.