The burden of big breasts

A tumultuous tale of learning to love myself—flaws and all.

- Diya J Verma

Cleavage, cleavage!” my aunt roared when my dupatta released, revealing my perfectly preserved, blouse-secured boobs. Come to think of it, a liberal display of the waist is absolved—sari not sorry—but the littlest of skin-show above the waist falls under scrutiny. The dichotomy is deplorable. But it is what it is.

You see, my plums matured into melons sooner than expected; I'd hit puberty at 10—the first in my grade—which likely catalysed hormone-induced growth, leaving me with a bra far bigger than that of my peers...and a befitting moniker, “Double D”.

So it wouldn't be a stretch to assume that my blossoming womanhood was stirring feelings of self-consciousness.

In a bid to tone down my tatas, I'd conceal them with loose-fitting clothes, pull out of 5Ks and even saunter, for I thought a bouncing rack was unsightly. All—and I mean all—that it'd take to draw away attention.

Turns out, I wasn’t alone.

According to Women’s Health (Lond.), mature-aged women with larger breasts express a desire to change their breast size, and are less satisfied with their bra fit.

Now, it's only fair to ask: What of the men? Does this sentiment extend to our male counterparts, too?