I guess I should start this at the beginning....
I used to be flat chested until I was 19. Not completely flat, "Barely B's", little sporty boobs, and I was ok with it. I would just be a butt girl. Then I went on the pill my Freshman year of college and grew C's. The most awkward part of this whole development (no pun intended) was that I went home for spring break, and came back a cup size larger. I cracked jokes about it with my friends (mostly male at the time) and said "People are going to think I got a boob job over break." I was content with my 34C's. I was in total denial about how big they were. If someone told me I had "big boobs" I would rush into denial. Then randomly at 24, I seemed to outgrow my 34C's. Unwilling to be professionally measured again, I just bumped myself up to a 34D. And it was what it was. D seems so large. I'm just a curvy girl, I'm not THAT girl with big boobs. I would caveat any complaint I had about large boobs as "rich people problems". For example, I can't wear one of those super cute bandeau strapless bikini tops, or fit into certain shirts & dresses. Or I have to go up a size in a dress so I can get it over these babies. But, 34D.....meh, not that weird.
For the better part of the last year, I've started to suspect I had outgrown my bras. I had religiously been wearing a Victoria's Secret Angel bra that I knew ran on the large side. I would just buy new colors when they went on sale. One day late last fall, I had opened a new pink one that I had ordered for a great price but not really needed. It didn't fit. I had spillage everywhere. Armpit vagina, the whole thing. Bummed out, I held it up against the same bra that was a little older. It was visibly smaller....WTF VS. After a running conversation with my (large breasted) sister regarding whether or not there was bra vanity sizing plaguing our society, I decided to go get professionally measured again. Tucking your boobs in all day is just not fun or cute. I dragged her with me to Nordstrom where I had heard good things about their particular lingerie department. I'm not sure if going to get fit for a bra is more or less awkward with a friend/sister. The whole situation is pretty awkward, but if you're close enough to your chosen friend/sister, showing them your boobs is NBD.
I was expecting her to say I was off by a cup size or a band size. But no, I'm a 34DDD. "Triple D?!" I said in disbelief. I didn't even know such a thing existed. I had a friend in college who told me she was a 30F, but her boobs were HUGE. The attendant and my sister tried to make me feel better about it not being a huge deal, but I'm still sort of upset about my own bra size. I purchased a few bras that were either 32E's or 34DDD's. (E=DDD in Europe) Wearing my new bras, I noticed an amazing difference. This is way more comfortable and flattering. Is this what women feel like when they finally switch to maternity jeans even though they just don't want to? (I'm not saying being pregnant and having large boobs are equivalent hardships) But, really? DDD?
This past weekend, I was visiting my BFF in DC and we were shopping, as we're prone to do. I commented that I was in dire need of a strapless, and I thought I should just go back to Nordstrom and ask for help since I have such special needs boobs. She came with me into the dressing room, which was helpful. When you're buying something you don't really want, but need, it's hard to be non-biased. The attendant was really nice and patient. Ultimately, I left with a strapless bra, and two bras from the sale rack. One of those bras, was a 32G.......I almost didn't buy it because of the tag. I mean, G?! With boobs like those I'd belong on Maury's special on "I'm addicted to plastic surgery" or "I refuse to get a breast reduction because my 82 year old husband loves me the way I am, even though I have health issues." Tell me you wouldn't watch that.
The worst part of this whole experience was, that we were almost late to the Pride Parade because I had to try on like 12 bras. So then I am apologizing to my BFF's wife for having special needs boobs that require extra help in a guerrilla fitting room environment. I can't even pick out my own bras! Gone are the days of just knowing how everything will fit. I texted my BFF on Monday to announce I was wearing my 32G and although it's comfortable (damn you, Nordstrom) I feel like everyone is staring at me knowing I'm wearing a circus bra. You know how you feel like people are judging you and your UTI when you buy Cranberry juice? It's like that.
It sounds like I have a mostly hate relationship with my boobs, but on the contrary, I do love them. I want to have photos and potentially a plaster cast made so that when I'm done having babies, I can have them put back up. I get a lot of compliments on them and they are pretty perky, but seriously....DDD?
Moral of the story: I have boob specific body dysmorphia (self diagnosed, without WebMD). #RichPeopleProblems