The last few years have given spectacular rise to TV programmes, magazine inches and other media space all discussing the apparently inexhaustible topic of whether curvy girls are hotter/healthier/better in bed than skinny girls. As though everyone is either one or the other. The debate is never going to come to a solid conclusion because nobody can agree on a ‘perfect’ body type. Given the choice, some people might opt for a voluptuous Valkyrie figure while others would plump for an athletic Amazonian body type. It’s just personal preference, and it really doesn’t matter, so long as everyone keeps their weight in a place that doesn’t endanger their health and is at least least mostly happy with what they see in the mirror every day.
What does amaze me in the Great Weight Debate is how casually people will brazenly slag off other people’s body types. I’m not talking about fat, which can be altered with a change in diet and lifestyle, but the actual way that people are built; stuff that can’t be changed. And in particular I’m talking about boobs. Over the last seven years I’ve had clothes every size between a 6 and a 14. That’s a pretty wide spectrum, but did my breasts get significantly bigger when I was at my largest? Did they fuck. My boobs have fluctuated maybe a cup size since I was fifteen, and now I’m 22 I’ve just had to accept that God, Mother Nature or whoever is in charge of dishing out the racks really wants me to always err on the small side. And that’s fine, there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. But I thought there was for a long time, because everyone from Cosmopolitan to Gok Wan was telling me that you can’t really be feminine without a cracking set of ‘bangers’ flopping off your chest. Well-endowed friends would talk about how glad they were their figures didn’t resemble that of a twelve year-old boy. The phrase ‘real women’ was bandied around. When we went shopping, they’d pile into Bravissimo while I went to look at the make-up in Boots and play my tiny violin, knowing full well the busty store assistants would cast one expert eye over my B cups and declare that there was nothing they could do for me. (Of course, they’re not like that at all; last year I actually went in and said something on the lines of ‘Hello. I know you only do size D upwards and you have literally NOTHING that will fit me, but seeing as it’s Tuesday afternoon and you’re quiet would you mind measuring me? I don’t trust those amateurs at La Senza. Thanks.’ And they were lovely.)
But less of that, I have seen the light! And if you’re like me and not lugging around a gargantuan pair of funbags everywhere you go, you should learn to love whatever you’ve got too. Why do you want massive breasts anyway? They are there for one reason and one reason only: feeding sprogs. Admittedly most men are strangely attracted to them, but they certainly can’t be trusted. Boobs are essentially just udders.
1. The Perv Factor
My friend Carla has an absolutely cracking set of tits. Not only are they pretty big, but they are also best friends. They like to cuddle each other all the time. However, although they are magnificent, she has also been on the receiving end of some pretty ungentlemanly behaviour. I don’t know about you, but being addressed as ‘Tits McGee’ by a stranger is not high on my bucket list.
2. Going Strapless/Backless
Having smaller boobs means not ever having to suffer an underwear malfunction. While my breasty peers struggle into complicated three-way bras or just avoid backless dresses like the plague, we lesser-titted folk can go wild and free with no fear of rogue nipples making an unscheduled appearance.
3. Easier Dressing
Like Carla, my friend Rosie is the proud owner of a rack big enough, they say, to park yer bike in. Going out with her is a lot like going to a fly party with a great big steaming turd on legs. But she’s told me she’s pretty restricted in what she can wear. Whereas I can fling on, say, a white vest top and not have to worry about possible fall-out, she has to layer up. Exactly the same style of top on her looks…indecent. Me? I couldn’t look vulgar if I tried.
4. The Barganz
Carla once told me she spent £50 on a swimming costume because it was the only one that would contain her epic breasts and keep them from bursting out like a pair of colossal ping-pong balls in geyser country. After all, nobody wants to be smacked in the face with their own tits when they’re trying to perfect their butterfly stroke. But…fifty quid. FIFTY QUID. I had bought three stringy Quiksilver bikinis in the ASOS Outlet for that much. I was so appalled I had to go and lie down in a darkened room for awhile. £50 could buy you twenty double Archers and lemonades at the Union bar on an ‘expensive’ night, so you can understand why I was so upset. I couldn’t believe it. I don’t think Carla could believe it either. She looked queasy for days.
5. Pain-free Exercise
I wear a sports bra when I do cardio because, well, everyone should. It’s not good for that tissue to be jiggling around like billy-o while you work out. (For the record, I have exactly the same one that Mulan got when she ran off pretending to be a bloke to join the Chinese army in 400AD. It straps ’em down like nothing else, I’ve practically got a concave situation going on. It’s from Nike FYI.) However, if I don’t wear one occasionally it isn’t the end of the world. It doesn’t hurt me, but my bigger friends tell me they can barely run up the stairs without feeling the strain.
6. Minimal Saggage
You know what happens when I jump up and down with no clothes on? Absolutely fuck all. When I remove my bra they barely move a half inch, which means while I may not have ever had the pleasure of allowing somebody to motorboat me, I am a stretch-mark free zone. Lesser-breasted creatures are less likely to get much sagging too; gravity pays less attention to smaller masses, you see. THAT’S SCIENCE. They may be having a great time now, but all those buxom mates of yours will be playing keepy-uppy with their tits by the time they’re fifty.
7. Fewer Health Problems
Finally, it’s sad but true, but having larger breasts does mean you’re more likely to suffer from back and neck problems. If you can’t get on board with any of the other benefits, at least be thankful you’re not going to be shelling out for a chiropractor because of your waps.
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