I guess I was just destined to have big breasts. My mom wore a C, she had a petite sister who wore a DD, even in my grandmother’s old age, the woman had large knockers.

Mine showed up around 4th grade.

I remember I went to this girl’s 9th birthday party and she was having a dance. I was so embarrassed because my mother made me wear my training bra and none of the other girls had to wear bras!

So during the dance, I went to the restroom, took my bra off and stuffed it in the pocket of my jacket and enjoyed the rest of the night.

The next morning, I woke up late and was in a rush to get to school on time (for some reason, my friend had chosen to have her birthday party on a school night). It was a chilly morning so I grabbed a cup of warm oatmeal, my jacket and backpack and went to school.

It wasn’t till after lunch, I was in math class, that I felt something lumpy in the pocket of my jacket. I reached my hand into the pocket only to pull out my friggin’ training bra!

And being the goody two shoes that I was, I sat in the front of the classroom, so nearly every student saw what I had pulled out of my jacket.

So embarrassing! As if me needing to shave my legs already didn’t make feel like a freak enough, now everyone knew that I had to wear a bra too!

My boobs stayed pretty small until 7th grade, where they were able to fill a C cup bra. Yes, I was 12 years old and I wore a C cup bra. Gosh, I thought they were huge then, who would have known what they would become! I remember reading this book about a girl my age, at that time, and her friends would play this game of seeing who could stick the most pencils under their boobs without them falling out. I’m pretty sure I could have only held on to one pencil under my boob at that time-this pencil:

Anyway, I was able to get by without a lot of crap from the other kids because I was in my Sporty phase and I wore a lot of loose t-shirts and windbreakers. It was also the year that we had to change for gym class, but some of us insecure/shy girls came up with a way to get our shirts off and on without being exposed.

My freshman year, I had stopped dressing so butch and began to wear more fitted clothing. That’s when I started getting more crap about my big gals.

I had a crush on this guy in my gym class. He was so immature but I thought he was really cute and he showed interest in me.

Him and his friend had come up with this stupid game of trying to come up to us girls and sort of lift our boobs or “flipping the lids” as they referred to it.

I was pretty good at eluding their pervy hands but one day, they caught me totally off guard.

Me and my girl friends had been walking laps around the track that day and the guys were off horsing around somewhere. We sort of got lost in our conversation and we didn’t notice the guys sneaking up behind us. All of a sudden, someone came up behind me and covered my eyes with their hands while one guy, who I figured to be my crush, felt me up.

I screamed and pushed them away and then laughed because well, I just wouldn’t have looked cool if I cried. So I laughed and that was also the day my crush on Abe came to an end.

It wasn’t until my Jr. year in HS that I came to like my boobs. I had my first boyfriend (he later turned out to be gay. I like to think that I didn’t turn him gay, but that I turned him straight for 2 years) and he was very conservative and didn’t appreciate my low cut shirts. He said that he would see guys checking out my boobs when I walked through the halls. It was really hard not to sound excited when I responded with “Really!?”

The next year, I had put on a little weight and my breasts grew too. My boyfriend’s sister had taken me bra shopping and I was horrified when she made me try on bras with 3 and 4 hooks! I wanted my cute, girly, frilly, 2 clasps bras back! But I had to admit, my girls looked perky as opposed to their droopy, sad look.

After I broke up with my boyfriend, I started dating my now-husband. Before he had touched my breasts, he had bragged about how he was so good at taking bras off a girl. The first night he reached behind me to unhook my bra, he said “Dude, how many hooks are back there!?” and proceeded to fumble around for a good minute or 2 before he finally unhooked all 4.

Then I gained a few pounds and my boobs ballooned to a D. Then I had a child-DD. Then another kid 12 months later-DDD. Now I wear a DDD but I have muffin top boobs (my boobs come out over the top of my bra) so I know I wear a larger size.

What sucks is that I have to wear a DDD because that’s the largest size Wal-Mart carries and WM=Cheap bras. As your boobies grow, the bras only get uglier and more expensive.

I really miss all of my old cute bras.