When I Thought My Boobs Had Flesh Eating Bacteria, And Other Problems

As of yesterday I was firmly convinced I was suffering from some horrible disease. Without even Googling it, I surmised my left boob must have somehow contracted some sort of flesh eating bacteria and that the rest of my body was not far behind.

There were these divet like holes in my left boob when I took off my bra yesterday, which is what led me to this completely rational conclusion. I say “yesterday” and not “last night” because I speak the truth and the truth is, fuck bras. As someone with G cups I probably shouldn’t be saying that, but there it is. Although word to the wise – don’t go braless in the bathroom – it ends badly.

Anyway, these FLESH EATEN HOLES weren’t exactly holes – more like little craters… like what a really bad acne scar might leave behind. I have a lot of struggles in life, but thankfully boobs covered in huge cystic acne isn’t one of them, so I knew it wasn’t that. So OBVIOUSLY it must be some kind of flesh eating disease.

Except that this morning when I woke up, they were gone. Or rather, when I remembered my panic from yesterday at around noon today and I investigated my tit, they were gone. I’m starting to suspect that it may NOT have been a one day flesh eating bacteria, but rather that I wound up with crumbs in my bra, and they actually left some serious indentations.

The only reason I’m willing to even concede this as a possibility is that last week after a particularly aggressive snacking session, I actually found 2 entire tortilla chips in my bra. That I didn’t notice until hours after I was done with my chips and salsa. I feel you processing that statement. Stop it. Don’t judge me until you’ve walked a mile in my bra.

I have yet to put on a bra today, so there has been no possibility of crumb trappage and so far, my boobs are looking the way they should (minus sitting about 3 inches higher, but whatever).

But while we’re on the subject, this is just one in a line of many struggles I have had with my big boobs. Melons. Tatas. Bozongas. Whatever. Big ol’ titties.

So I present to you my top five big boobs struggles (not including thinking you have flesh eating bacteria because of crumbs in your bra, since we’ve already covered that. Probably more than you ever thought you’d read about it).

Seat belts

Seriously. If it’s not getting trapped between my boobs and awkwardly cutting into me, it’s tucked underneath making them look even more indecent, and probably not going to hold me in properly if I were to actually crash. There is no good place for it.

Necklaces

Speaking of no good place to put it, when you have big boobs, your necklace game is limited. Want to wear a great long lariat necklace? Nope, your boobs will completely eat it, and it can get totally lost. Basically looks like you’re flossing your chest. Wearing a killer layered bubble necklace? Beware – the length can create a problem, and so can the shirt you pair it with. It can easily get lost in the abyss. Exhibit A:

necklace big boobs

Massages

OK, so this one is tricky because I’m not only large chested, but I’m also a plus size girl, so getting comfortable on those tables can be a challenge, and frankly a little embarrassing at times. Luckily, I have found an amazing massage therapist who helped me figure out a solution without making me self-conscious, and she’s the first. We just double up the head pillow so when I lay on my tummy my boobs aren’t completely suffocating me. Since my head is riding higher, I can breathe, and the position totally works for me. But up until her, that was definitely something that hindered my enjoyment of massages and caused a decent amount of anxiety.

Accidentally looking provocative 

“It’s not my fault!!” This was basically my mantra in high school every time my mom would chastise me for showing too much skin. Seriously, I was just buying clothing that fit, but my high school DD’s had a way of making even plain t shirts look a lot more… adult. I can be wearing exactly the same thing as one of my smaller friends and I will look as if I’m “trying” to show off more skin. Because I have more skin. It’s a catch-22 really – I love the way I fill out so many things, but when I’m heading into an interview and the button on my shirt pops open, that’s not how I want to get the job, you know?

Bras

I know. There are endless articles out there about how to get measured properly and find the right bra no matter what size, but I have to say, I’m still searching for my unicorn. Most days it’s a battle between adjusting the shoulder straps and waiting in fear for the underwire to bust and hoping I’m wearing my glasses at the time so I don’t lose an eye. Heads up pregnant friends – no promises I won’t give your kid a black eye if the underwire gives out when I’m holding it – they have a mind of their own. At this point, I’m totally into this wireless bra from Lane Bryant – it’s missing the support of a regular bra, but DAMN it’s comfortable. That will have to be my baby holding bra. I have to protect the children.

There are other struggles to be sure, but these are the ones that top my list right now. Not that I’m complaining really – I wouldn’t trade my boobs for anything, but there are definitely days when they make things a little more challenging. And days when I think they’re trying to kill me, when in reality it’s the tortilla chips that are after me.

Every Body Is Worth Shopping For

I keep buying THINGS. Mostly clothes and shoes. Oh, and makeup.  I think it might be developing into an actual problem. I told my boyfriend last night I was going to return yet another pair of boots that didn’t quite fit, and that I was really going to try to cut down on all my online shopping in order to start saving more. Because you know, taxes. And down payments. And other boring adult things.

And yet I JUST bought a bunch of clothes online. As in, 30 seconds after I hit “purchase” I started writing this. I mean really though, it was buy one get one half off so it almost would have been irresponsible NOT to buy them now, right?? This is the warped logic I can use to convince myself of just about anything. I work in sales and I like to think of myself as a fairly persuasive person. But when it comes to myself, that shit is dangerous.

I know I need to cut back a little, but clicking and spending and buying is so much FUN. It is, you can’t deny it.

But I’m running out of room for all the things. You see, when my boyfriend moved in he got zero hanging closet space – just a consignment nightstand with 2 drawers I shoved in the back corner. That’s it. I kept the rest of the space, and even then, my stuff was overflowing.

So for the sake of our relationship, I’ve been forced to purge my closet at least twice since he moved in. As in, 4 or 5 garbage bags worth of clothes to donate to Goodwill. Not counting shoes. Seriously, I had so many clothes I needed to get rid of.

But that’s the thing when you have fluctuated in size from a 12 to a 22 in the span of about 5 years. You hold on to all those size 12’s because, come on. They are so cute. And so small. And it wasn’t THAT long ago that you fit into them.

On top of which,  you spent good money on them, and someday they’re TOTALLY going to fit again and it would just be a waste of money to re-buy everything. They’re sexy. And inspirational… and such a tease… and actually kind of soul-crushing when you start to think about it too hard and hold them up and realize that isn’t you anymore.

So you purge. But purging your skinny clothes is hard. It feels like defeat in so many ways. It feels like admitting you’re in this fat body for the long haul, and don’t believe you’ll ever get back to that size. It makes you feel so crappy about yourself that you want to sit down and eat a whole bag of Goldfish. Or is that just me?

Anyway, I purged. I said goodbye, because you know what? It was time. And I needed the closet space. And not just so my boyfriend wouldn’t have to store his clothes in the trunk of his car. But because I finally decided in the last year or so to really start shopping for my current body, and to start dressing it in things I actually liked.

I’ve always been a person who loved fashion and took a lot of care in the way I dressed, whether it was silver platform sneakers and matching metallic jacket, or the perfect maxi dress and beaded necklace. But something happened when I got to a size I didn’t like. I stopped shopping. So I literally had nothing to wear, since nothing in my closet fit me anymore.

hanging clothes

I relegated myself to yoga pants and baggy tops pretty much every day. I didn’t go out and supplement my wardrobe, didn’t get different sizes in the styles I actually liked. I had this warped idea that I should not be spending money on THIS BODY. That THIS BODY wasn’t worth anything, financially or otherwise.

That somehow, I’d magically lose the weight and be back in a body that was worthy of love, and worthy of fashion. And in the meantime, I would dress my ugly, frumpy body in ugly, frumpy clothes. And stare at my size 12 jeans and halter tops while I wept into a bowl of ice cream. (The reduced fat kind, because you know, that’s healthier.)

I almost felt like if I punished myself hard enough for being in this fat body, I might somehow shame myself into changing it. Turns out, that’s not how it works. It just starts to feel hopeless. You start to value yourself less every day.

But at some point last year, something clicked. Some part of my brain recognized I am still beautiful, that this is not the final destination on my journey, and that I deserve to decorate, celebrate and otherwise embrace myself as I am right now. Size 2, size 12 or size 22.

Part of that probably has to do with the fact that I was in a great place in my life – good job, great friends and family, and the most supportive boyfriend on the planet. I have to give Gil a lot of credit for helping me learn to love and accept myself again because he’s played a big role in it. And honestly, he still loves my body more than I do, but I’m working on it.

So I shopped. I clicked. I bought. And I remembered how fun it could be. Especially since there are a lot more plus size options available today than there were a few years ago. I filled my closet with leopard-print tops, black leggings, wide calf boots, bold print maxis, V-neck tees, fitted blazers, and SO MANY STATEMENT NECKLACES.

It didn’t feel like defeat – it felt amazing.

And then a weird thing happened. Over time, I started to like how I looked a little more. I started to feel a little better. I started to want to celebrate my body in other ways, like trying yoga for the first time. I mean obviously I’ll have to go shopping for some yoga outfits first, but I’m on the right path.

Turns out my incessant shopping has actually been an important step in the right direction for me. At that’s exactly what I’ll remind Gil every time a new package shows up at our front door.