A Subject Close to My Heart…..Boobs!


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.

Go Boobs!!!


“Type hard!  Like you mean it!”

19 thoughts on “A Subject Close to My Heart…..Boobs!

  1. Pingback: My Boobs Are Not Your Problem: An Open Letter to an Insecure Wife | QueenBeeingQueenBeeing

  2. Pingback: I give the illusion that I’m sexy and people believe it. You can fool them too! | Your Mother Is A Dirty Girl

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  4. IDK – I think I’ve slept with a lot of girls with fake boobs. I didn’t realize how many until reading your article and actually thinking about it… But ya – sometimes you want to have a girl with real boobs, and sometimes you want one with big fake boobs.

    The fun in it is, you never can really tell if they are real or not until you unwrap the package, just like a kid at christmas.

    However, NEVER under any circumstances comment on a girl’s fake boobs right after the first time you feel them like my dumbass once did to try and impress her with my boob knowledge.

    “Ahh, nice. Saline.”


    She may not even say anything to you then but after NOT going the rest of the way and she sends you a text later, “It took you two fucking seconds to tell me my boobs were saline and I was thinking, How many other fucking pairs of boobs have you felt to know that!?” – you kinda know that your chances of making it with that girl have just gone down the drain.

    Womp Womp.

    Regardless – I am 40 now, and I still like boobs like I am a 15 year old kid who just stole my first playboy magazine from my parents stack… 😉

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  7. Hi. Just stumbled across your blog through Liam’s nomination. Great blogs. Oh, and a belated happy birthday to your boobs.

  8. I think I just might LOVE you! Seriously, way to embrace the love of boobs. I just totally agree with everything you said — and thanks sooooo much for sharing your rationale for getting them done — as a dude that was just really interesting to read. Boobs are the most wonderful things on this here earth – I honestly don’t see how any man or woman can resist their allure — like you say, if I had ’em, I’d be touching them all day long too 🙂

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  10. Wow, I had to double check and make sure my wife didn’t write this. This is her story exactly except her “girls” are only 5 years old.

    The not quite keeping it a secret part really is funny sometimes. People notice something is different, but they are scared to ask, so they just stare a lot.

    Congrats on making the “selfish” decision to take control of your body and your sexuality. It really is hard to pull off sometimes.

    • That’s awesome! Good for your wife, and for you too ( the lucky s.o.b. that gets to reap some of the benefits).

      I am happy to know that this was relatable in some way and that other people are “selfish’ too 🙂

      It is fun to see peoples reactions when they find out, they never really quite know what to say. The awkwardness is fun to mess with.

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