Edited by: Vrinda Rastogi
The epitome of a love-hate relationship is the one that a woman has with her own breasts. You wouldn’t think that two harmless dangly little appendages would cause a human being so much trouble but here we are. The abject pressure that one has while deciding an outfit for the day- should I wear something that is comfortable and lets me breathe but I end up looking like a beach ball or should I just wear something skin tight that is probably making me miserable but makes me look good even if I’m dying a little inside? This one is for all those girls out there who have an immense challenge with their mammary glands. I see you, mama.
Stage 1: I want boobies!
Let’s be honest- every 11-year-old girl has looked at a gorgeous grown woman at least once in their life and been like- hey what are those things that just stick out of these pretty women and make them even prettier? I want one of those! Life was much simpler when you used to sneak into your mom’s closet when she was not looking and try on her bras and put on makeup just so you could look like a “woman”. A burning want to be beautiful- because of course, it was a good shape that defined beauty back then. Little did you know that these perky little things would go on to determine your personality for a lot of strangers.
Stage 2: Boobies are here!
Remember the first time you wore a bra? Glorious wasn’t it? Feeling like you had accomplished something when you became a part of the “grown up girl” group in class, looking down on these flat-chested children, thinking “oh they are so jealous of me right now!” You loved wearing a bra, not just because it placed you at a higher position in the 13-year-old female hierarchy but also because you felt pretty- your body looked pretty and it was different from what you were used to. Yeah, sometimes your underboob becomes all red because you wore it too tight, or were trying to recreate Baywatch in your head, but whatever! They are nice, and most importantly, you’re finally a proper girl now!
Stage 3: And they are growing.
You play basketball during PE in school and the guys are looking at you all weird. The girls are staring, some of them giggling at you. The PE teacher calls you aside when you are having water and sits you down. You’re confused, maybe a little hopeful that she will talk about that amazing hoop you just scored over the tallest dude in class. She has a kind smile on her face- “Will you tell your mother that I recommend you wear a sports bra on the days you have PE? If you don’t understand, don’t worry about it, just tell her exactly what I just said.” You go home all confused and tell your mom. She gets a little red-faced and takes you to jockey sports and makes you try on a weird type of bra- this one has no buckles and is worn like a t-shirt, like the one some women in TV shows wear. It’s really tight though, and you ask your mom if you should get the next size. “You’ll get used to it, don’t worry. A bigger size won’t do the job.” Next PE class you go wearing the bra and it’s a little easier to run, and people don’t stare all that much. Huh.
Stage 4: Can they stop growing already?
You absolutely hate your school uniform- a bland white shirt tucked into a weird clown skirt. It makes you look fat, the shirt just bunching in front of your chest. It’s bad enough that your boobs are so big sometimes you think they might hit you in the face if you’re walking too fast. Now the fluffy shirt makes them look even bigger. Your shoulders have begun to hunch- it’s just too tiring to maintain a good posture. You were already short- now you look even shorter. You tried to stick with 30 C for as long as possible but it just became too difficult to breathe. You sometimes catch yourself looking at these swimsuit models and mannequins at the lingerie shops, feeling terrible about everything in general. You want to look like how you did when you were fourteen but you know it’s just not possible. You sigh, tucking your shirt tightly into your cycling shorts, and hurry off to catch the bus before it leaves.
Stage 5: Look at my face when I’m talking to you
Arvind is the most sleazy, annoying, perverted asshole you’ve ever met. Every time you see his smug hamster face slinking across the class to talk to you, you want to smack him across the face. Because he’s not really talking to you, is he? No, he’s very much interested in having a nice long chat with your breasts. They don’t have mouths, you moron, look up, will you? One day your best friend Hana tells you, “You know how so many guys fall head over heels for you right? I wish mine were bigger,” and your heart sinks a little. People are telling you you’re lucky, but you don’t really feel lucky. The next time you go shopping, you get an XL shirt, even if a medium size fits you just fine. The staring stops and chimichangas keep moving on, unseen and safe.
Stage 6: Did you know Turtlenecks look great on me?
“I love your outfit so much!”, Reena squeals as you walk towards the academic block for your morning class. You know you killed your sociology presentation, and the professor acknowledges this, greeting you with a wide smile as soon as you enter the classroom. You sit with your back straight because you know the hunching is very bad for posture and boxing is hard enough as it is- you can’t afford a crooked spine. As you’re taking notes you feel someone’s eyes on you- you turn sideways to see Rachel staring at your face- she blushes and quickly looks away as soon as you catch her. You continue with your notes, and a soft smile takes over your face.
After the day is over and you’re getting ready for bed, you replay the moment in your head and smile. A sigh escapes as you unclasp your bra, indicating that you’re done for the day.