My midlife blogger friends and I talk about a lot of things.
- We talk about getting older.
- We talk about our sex lives – good, bad or nonexistent.
- We talk about our kids – but not as often as mommy bloggers.
- We talk about writing techniques, social media, and blogging tools.
- We talk about books and movies. Sometimes tv.
- We talk about fashion – especially shoes.
And this week, we talked about boobs. It was collectively decided that we preferred the word “boobs” over the ever-popular “tits,” which was deemed too, um, titter-inducing.
Boobs are a hot topic, pretty much from the moment we first feel a twinge of growing pains. Some of us get them -whether big and bouncy or small and perky – when we’re far too young to really understand or appreciate what boobs mean in our society – the power they have, the weakness they imply. Some of us get them and hate them, some of us show them off, some of us have them reduced or enlarged.
I was young when my boobs started growing. They were pretty big for an 11 year old girl. It was weird. Boys looked at me. They would randomly grab at my chest, as though my boobs were there for the taking, like a free sample at a bakery. “Take one.”
This was in the early 1970’s. Tweens weren’t wearing Victoria’s Secret bras – we were wearing plain, white, ugly boulder holders. That was our only option.
Having big boobs was a burden for a 12 year old girl back then. I think it’s different now. When my daughter was 12, her friends were strutting their stuff, pushing their boobs up and out and making them 2 sizes bigger with pads and push-up bras. They knew what they were doing.
But back to my blogger friends.
At this point in life, there’s more complaining than bragging – boobs that hang low, bras that are uncomfortable (honestly girls, aren’t they all?), boobs that have deflated and sort of disappeared, boobs lost to cancer.
“The nice thing thats come with age is that I now have cleavage. I can now move them around to where I want them.” – Connie McLeod
I asked my friends, when did you get your boobs?
“Still waiting. I bra shop in the Chubby Teen section of Walmart. I’m wearing a Dora the Explorer training bra right now.” – Not a Supermom
” Nothing until college-I then had perfect 34c pixie boobs, then in my 30s they became an extra waistline!” – Forever 51
“52 – thank you Dr. Kim.” – Employee to Employ Me
” My dad was a carpenter, and I was (and still am) a carpenter’s dream.” – Relocation the Blog
We share a collective experience of associating boobs with being women, in some ways more than any other parts of our bodies. The first (usually) visible sign of maturity, boobs can be a burden or a blessing, depending on how you – and those around you – feel about them. Fathers can be perplexed, mothers envious. Both can be worried, knowing the way things can change for their little girls once boobs appear.
Boobs are friendly and cheerful. Everyone can see them, or the idea of them. Boobs are maternal, erotic, cute, approachable and public. Women don’t mind talking about their boobs, as compared to vaginas. Vaginas are much more private, hidden away and personal. Cleavage is everywhere.
Embrace your boobs, however large or small they may be. Better yet, let someone you love embrace them. Make someone happy.
What’s your boob story? Share in the comments section.