"Big boobs are a blessing and a curse; a litmus test for modesty. No matter if I’m all covered up or in a low cut dress, my 32 Ds draw attention from men and women alike. Men will either stare, wolf whistle or say “Ooh!” when I walk past them in the street. On the other hand, women will shower me with compliments like “I love your tits!”. Even when I go shopping for clothes, saleswomen look at my breasts before they even find a size for me. I'll often hear, “You have big boobs for an Asian." The truth is that I’ve developed them since puberty.
Growing up, I was always fascinated by big boobs since I was a preteen because to me, it was unheard of to have two round things in front of an adult woman’s chest. It started when I flipped through a mountain of tabloids, where photos of female celebrities always featured them baring cleavages. Also, I read Seventeen, where a handful of articles talked about breasts, bra shopping, etc.
Whenever I went past the lingerie section, my eyes lit up at the sight of an array of bras – like a hyperactive kid at Toys R Us. Without any hesitation, I went for the D cup bras, touched the padding and laughed. To me, it was a dream to have big boobs as it’d make every outfit pop.
When I was 13, the reality of developing boobs became real. While most middle school girls barely reached an A cup, all I had was a white cotton bra with adjustable halter straps that could fit my teeny tiny B cups (in spite of it being a size smaller.) It was the only bra that could fit me as all the other bras could barely fit them. Not to mention, it made them look smaller from the front whether I’m in a loose PE shirt or a two button polo.
Although I wasn’t the most popular girl in school, I was hoping that no one would notice my boob size until I was in seventh grade. At this point, it was unusual for me to grow mini B cups as no other 13-year-old in my school had them apart from myself.
From grades six to eight, every girl was mandated to share a locker room. Given that I would be surrounded by many girls from different grades, I never really thought that breast size would be a big deal as everyone was busy changing out of their PE uniforms. Then one day an eighth grade girl accosted me while I was taking my PE shirt off. Her jealousy was obvious (brows furrowing, eyes squinting, nostrils flaring) when she asked, “Why are your boobs so big?” Startled, I simply replied, “I don’t know”.
Two years after that locker room incident, I had become a fresh-faced, 15-year-old with C cups. In spite of developing a womanly body, my breast didn’t look terribly obvious as my boobs were usually hidden underneath modest outfits. One time I was eating my lunch (home cooked pasta and broccoli) at the cafeteria, a male peer walked past, took a glance at my breasts and muttered, “big tits” under his breath.
Shocked and speechless, I wanted to hide my breasts more. Although I wish I had confronted him, I filed a report to a counselor instead. Looking back, objectification from male peers like my classmate gives them the power of ownership over my body – they only see how the appearance of a young woman’s body appeals to them. To them, my boobs are fascinating as it’s the type they see on porn actresses, lingerie models or Playboy bunnies. However, my big boobs are a target for derision as it’s perceived to make one appear more sexualised than anyone with smaller breasts.