BBB: My Big Bad Boobs

This is the inevitable post where I talk about how I have giant boobs, and how that is NOT something you want to be envious of. Somehow, something happened when I hit 12 (logical people would call this puberty but I would call it nature hating me) that told my previously unisex child's body to sprout hips and the aforementioned boobs. I was perhaps the one preteen girl in existence that did not want boobs and would have been happy to move through life with B cups, max. Instead, by the end of the summer, my flat chest was hovering somewhere between DD and DDD. They were growing so quickly and I was in such denial, that I bought a stretchy B cup bra and squeezed those puppies in, convincing myself that I couldn't be bigger than a B cup. How could I be when all my friends were boys, flat chested, or tiny A cups?

Eventually, I had to start buying bigger bras. When the spandex could stretch no further and the boobs of doom seemed determined to continue growing I gave in and went shopping at the only place that stocked my size, Ms. Stevens. For the small breasted who have never had the unique pleasure of being inside a shop like this, it is a granny brazier store run by tiny elderly European women who lift and heft your breasts in addition to measuring them to determine their size. I left the store not only with several $60 dollar a piece granny bras, but also with some serious emotional scars. By 13, I hated my breasts, the ugly bras they necessitated and the unwanted male attention they earned. I wanted them gone, and as soon as I was old enough, 16, I went in for a reduction consultation.

One mammogram and breast weigh in later, it was determined that my unlucky girls were almost entirely gland. This meant a full reduction, no easy liposuction, a lot of scars, and the ultimate nail in the coffin, no breast feeding. While I could handle the major surgery, deal with the recovery, accept the hideously scary scars, I could absolutely not give up breast feeding. Even at 16, I knew I wanted babies and knew that more than anything I wanted to be able to breast feed. This was difficult to explain to my mom, but the decision was made and the reduction was put on hold. The back pain, the scoliosis, the rashes, welts, and bruises from bras, the inability to run 10 feet without whiplash would not be going away. The boobs of doom would be staying until after I've had my babies, come hell or high water I would be breast feeding.

Now, at 23, they seem to have settled into a 34-36 G cup. I still can't go shopping at normal stores, but I've found a store called The Wizard of Bras (side note: How cool is that? the wizard of bras? I'd go even if I had tiny boobies) that stocks decent bras and have even found an only slightly unattractive bathing suit with an actual bra built in. No matter what size I am, an eight at my rib showing skinniest or a twelve at my love handle fattest, the boobs of doom don't change so my shirt size is consistently a large or extra large. This can be disheartening when trying to lose weight, but I've managed to work around it. Until now.

I knew from distant observation that wedding dress sizing was funny. I'm sure you've heard of that size zero bride ordering a size 4 or 6, and of the normally size 8 person ordering a size 16. What I didn't know, was that all wedding dresses come with a standard B cup. A B CUP. Askijbddshbfhdbfjhdfvd. Really bridal industry? REALLY? You think that all women who want to get married in a white dress have a B cup, or a size that can be sister sized into a B cup? What planet do you people live on???? This means that every time I go dress shopping it goes something like this:

Me: Hello. I'm here to try on bridal gowns. Do you have any in my size?

Salesperson: Hi! Oh of course we do! Come right this way! Why don't you try on this size 12?

Me: Okay.....*squish, squash, rip* this dress doesn't seem to fit my chest.....

My Mother: *In the background* I hate weddings, why are you getting married, go study for your MCAT, why are you so fat, don't talk to me, have I mentioned I hate weddings?

Salesperson: Hmm, lets measure you to see *whips out dreaded tape measurer*

.....................................................Silence...................................................................

Salesperson: ...hmmm...yes...ah a 42 inch bust? yes, well....I believe that's about a size 24....

Me: WHAT? a 24??? I wear a size 10!! Aaswdhshdfkrfhuj I swear I'm not that fat!

Salesperson: Yes, well your waist and hips are size 10-12, your bust is a size 24 so we'd need to order the gown large and alter it down twelve sizes....

Me: Twelve sizes?? Can you even do that???

Salesperson: Well no, not really. I mean we could, but we'd have to take the dress apart and the alternations would be about $600 at minimum

Me: ..............................................Silence...............................................................

Right about here is where I should mention that my wedding dress is a gift from my auntie, and I just can't justify buying an expensive dress and then essentially doubling the cost through alterations. It appears that the only way around this is to have a custom gown made, and while that's lovely (although still more expensive than I'd like) it's just another reminder of how out of place my girls are in this world.

In the end, I'm sure the dress will turn out lovely. The women making it has DDDs herself, and has promised me that with the built in corset I won't have to wear a bra or corset. This is especially good, because the corset I wore to my friend's wedding gave me two sets of breasts, a top set and bottom set, in addition to numerous bruises and welts. But really, are there no other large busted girls out there? How do you shop for clothing? More importantly, where did you buy your wedding dress?