Boobs, boobs, boobs!
I love boobs. My boobs, other woman’s boobs, real boobs, fake boobs, man boobs (okay, not man boobs, I don’t hate them, but I don’t love them either – I’m indifferent). I have no problem making this claim of love, and I am a heterosexual woman. Boobs are beautiful, fun, and they bounce. I love things that bounce…like balls…I love balls too!!
I can see why guys are obsessed with boobs though. I touch mine all day long, and not for any kind of sexual gratification, but just because I fucking can. I imagine that if I had a dick I would touch that all day too though. Anyway…back to boobs, not to be confused with back boobs, those are not sexy.
So I realized that in at least 15 conversations over the years, including one just last week, I’ve said, “I know five women with fake boobs”, and this got me thinking.
Why do I say that? Just about everyone I know, knows that my boobs are….wait for it…..fake. Ahhh, confessional– that felt good to get off my chest (see what I did there? Ya, it was lame). I do know 4 other women with fake boobs too.
My family knows they are fake, the people I work with know, my in-laws don’t know, but I don’t keep it a secret. I just haven’t found the right time to say, “hey, my tits are as fake as you pretending to like me.” My kids don’t know either, but if they asked I would tell them. One day they will know.
Anyway, after giving it some thought, I realize why I say, “I know woman with fake boobs” instead of saying, “I have fake boobs”. It’s so that I don’t feel like I have I justify why I got mine. People can be judgy, so I just talk about the other women I know that have them instead.
I would like to share why I have fake boobs, and no, my real ones didn’t try to kill me (not with cancer anyway…..just by fucking with me mentally).
First, I would like to take a moment to celebrate (by clapping alone in my living room), my boobs are ten years old as of this past August. I’ve nurtured them, loved them, hugged them and raised them to be the gorgeous girls they are today. Yippee, pretty boobs!!
It all started when I was four…. no, that’s a crock of shit. As soon as I noticed my boobs weren’t coming in, I wanted them, so maybe since I was 13 or so. Yes, I do have some self-esteem issues, but that is not the reason I wanted to have boobs. Boobs, to me anyway, are feminine and sexy, and make you feel beautiful. Yes, I was beautiful with out them, blah, blah, blah. But I feel like a fucking sex goddess with them. When I put an outfit on, my boobs are the accessories that completes the look. I can wear tight shirts, low-cut shirts, or clingy dresses and actually fill them out now. Plus, I’m always flashing my husband, which is great for my marriage. My boobs have given me the confidence that I didn’t have before. I’ve always had a good sex drive, but the boobs gave me that boost I needed to be a little less inhibited, and instead of covering my chest, I’m like “look at these, motherfucker!”
I am lucky enough to have a small frame, my boobs give me the figure I had always wanted, but I struggle to maintain my weight and I have to work at it. I am not naturally “skinny”, and sadly, I can’t eat whatever the fuck I want without gaining weight.
When I was married to my previous husband, I got down to about 97 lbs (way too skinny for me by the way). I did it the healthy way, but I looked anorexic. Anyway, at 97 lbs, with no boobs and a pixie haircut. I looked like a 12 year old boy, or a 19 year old butch lesbian, neither was flattering (to me anyway). During that phase, I got pregnant with my my now 11 year old daughter. When I was pregnant, I grew boobs, it was pretty cool, but I also gained a ton of weight. I just looked like a fat person with fat tits. Like a lot of new moms, I decided to breastfeed. Do you know what breastfeeding does to boobs? It is not pretty!!!! By the time I was done having the life sucked out of me, I looked like I stepped from the pages of National Geographic, and I only breastfed for 6 weeks. My already smaller than A (yes, smaller than A) boobs, were now flabby and small. That didn’t make sense to me, I just had saggy skin that I referred to as my boobs, talk about not feeling sexy or like a woman.
I told myself at that time, “I’m done waiting, I’m getting a boob job.” I knew that in order to justify the boobs, I needed to lose the baby weight, otherwise I still wouldn’t be happy with what I saw in the mirror. I needed to like all of me first. When my daughter was 10 months old, I had lost my baby weight and got to a healthy 110 lbs (did I say I got up to 187 lbs when I was pregnant–ouch! another confession). All that was missing up to that point, was boobs.
I love the way fake boobs look by the way, and that’s what I wanted– boobs that looked fake, high, perky, round, and gorgeous from the side, top, bottom and every angle. I didn’t go into this looking for realistic or natural boobs. I wanted the fake, Playboy, pretty boobs, and that’s what I got. My then, negative A’s, are now round perky modest D’s, and I fucking love them.
Not a day goes by without me loving my boobs. My implants are saline, placed behind the muscle, and they were inserted underneath my breast. So yes, there is a small scar, but IDGAF (I don’t give a fuck), because I got them for me, and me alone. At the time, the cost was $5200.00 where I live, $2600.00 each, and I would pay that again and again to feel the way I feel having them. It was an investment, an investment in me, and I’m worth it. It can be hard to remember that once you become a parent, to do things for yourself. It did come with guilt, there were a lot of things that money could have gone towards, but I became a happier person, and that made me a better mother.
Fake boobs are not for everyone, I get that. You might love your small boobs and that’s great…for you. If you want to belong to the itty-bitty-titty-commitee then go for it, it’s not for me. People need to be happy with themselves, and if that means getting fake boobs, then get boobs, if that means new clothes, then get those. Improve your education or wear makeup, a nose job, whatever it is that makes you feel good, do it! Invest in yourself, but please don’t be quick to judge me.
I’m a mother that loves my kids.
I’m a wife that loves my husband.
I’m a woman with a nice rack! and by “nice”, I mean perfect for me.
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful, there are so many other reasons too”
I’ve had two more kids since my boob job, one is 19 months old, the other is 6 months old. My boobs looked “blah” during my pregnancies and shortly after, but I’m happy to say they’ve bounced back and my figure has too.
Just for the record, if I ever have to have my breast removed due to cancer, I would do it of course. I would cry like a baby, but my life is more important than my boobies.
I believe that women with small boobs or no boobs are just as sexy. Sexy is an attitude, the way you feel, the way you present yourself is what makes “sexy” a thing. What is sexy to me, may not be what is sexy to you, and that’s o-fucking-k.
I just believe, “if you look good, you feel good, and if you feel good, you do good.” Yes, I am shallow at times, I’m okay with that. I’m almost 40 years old and I accept who I am.
My boobs make me feel good, physically and emotionally.
“Type hard! Like you mean it!”