Why big boobs aren’t all fun and games

There are simply certain realities when it comes to being a woman with big breasts.

For one, I can’t get away with wearing what Taylor Swift wears. Let’s just say that if I were prancing around on stage in a little bralette and shorts, no one would be calling me a “class act.” Every day things easily become obscene. The process of getting ready for the gym is like preparing for battle. And don’t even get me started on men. Inside every man is a Neanderthal just waiting for the right pair of double Ds to set him free. OK, any pair.

Trust me: back pain is the least of our worries.

Anything ‘trendy’ is basically synonymous with ‘ridiculous’

Like, rompers? Huge joke. Crop tops? Surprise: every top is a crop top. Flowy tops? I am a circus tent. It’s like my boobs are a diving board the fabric uses to jump into oblivion. Cross-body bags? Shirts with flirty sayings across the chest? No. Just no.

When my small breasted friends wear power suits, it’s clear they’re headed to work. When I do, it’s like, who knows? Am I a high powered lawyer? Or was I hired to jump out of the cake at a bachelor party? This would be a poor time to take any single bills out of my wallet.

Even if my friends and I are the same dress size, I can never borrow clothes from them

Wearing a button down shirt is like playing Russian roulette — there’s no way to know when a button will pop at an inopportune time. I feel like I should warn people to duck.

Going braless is not an option

If caught, I feel like I’m committing a crime — armed with lethal weapons or hiding stolen diamonds.

My boobs sag at the age of 23

It’s due to the sheer fact of gravity. Physics, people.

Strapless dresses are not an option

My wearing a strapless dress is like when Mulan is trying to get into the Imperial army by wrapping her breasts. Except I never would have made it. Li Shang would have seen right through me and China would have crumbled.

No bra I wear would ever be featured in the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show

Those bras look like something my bra could have birthed. The same bra that is cute as a 32AA will not be cute as a 38DD. Actually, nothing will be cute in a 38DD. Cute bras don’t come in my size. They’re just so…big. And usually designed for grandmothers. If it doesn’t have an underwire, you can forget about it.

Being seductive gets tricky

There is no sexy way to take off something that big, especially when it is built with a wire. I usually just toss it to the floor before the guy has time to process how not cute a 38DD bra actually is.

Men get weirder than they already are

Men seem to think that because I have big tits they have somehow entered into a porno. Please stop trying to motorboat me. And titty fucking does not work in real life, guys. I bet small-breasted women don’t have to put up with this. I bet no one has ever tried to titty fuck Taylor Swift.

I’ve witnessed fully grown, employed adults devolve into horny little pubescent 14-year-old boys. And it’s hard to feel sexy when a man starts giggling the second you take your shirt off. I’ve heard some strange things in my day — every variation of the man giggle, having my boobs referred to as “knockers” and absurd questions like, “How many guys have tried to motorboat you?” or “Have you ever considered working at Hooters?” and even, “So do you just get whatever you want?”

Everyday things become provocative

Including but not limited to: standing up straight, running for the bus, running on a treadmill, or really just running at all. In fact, most forms of movement. Even standing still — I can’t try to have good posture without looking like I’m about to bounce into a porno.

Don’t even get me started on camera angles

Let’s just say that anything shot from above is not going to emphasize anyone’s personality.

Space becomes an issue

Full size boobs equal full size bras. When I pack for vacation my suitcase is one third clothing, two thirds underwear. Most people have an all encompassing underwear drawer. I have a specific drawer for my bras. No room for socks. Hanging my bra from a clothes-line feels like claiming land in a foreign country.

Family vacations to the beach feel wrong

I have to choose between looking like a frumpy 74-year-old in a one piece or flashing my first cousins accidentally in the ocean. Then I have to dig out two holes in the sand when I want to tan my back.

I get underboob sweat

And not just at the gym.

Things get stuck in there

Day-old popcorn from the movies, stray hairs, old receipts, etc.

Gym in high school and middle school was my personal hell

My friends all wore training bras, and all I could think was, “What are you training for? I’m in the boob Olympics over here.”

My sports bra looks like some contraption you’d find in a torture chamber

No really, like when I put it on, my boobs are strapped down FOREVER. And don’t even talk to me about taking it off after a workout.

Essentially, having large breasts is like two big elephants in the room. Elephants who are determined to make sure you will never wear anything trendy, share clothes with another female human or even stand up straight. So next time you’re envious of your busty friend, forget the back pain. Just remember the horrors of under boob sweat.