Missing my Big Breasts: 2

Contd from earlier post: Important: For all those who might link ALL stories on this site/ blog to me, there are stories that 'belong' to friends -- women unfortunate enough to have suffered the ultimate betrayal at the hands of men they trusted most -- these stories have been written in first person NOT because they are my stories but because writing in first person carries more impact. And perhaps gets the message across. This is a story of child abuse. Not mine...thankfully, not mine...

So, my Big Breasts were a good way of reading men. From the amount of time a man spends checking out my breasts, the way he looked at them and how often; categorising most men and how to deal with them was easy.

Like the Shifty Starer: the dude who will never look at your breasts directly, or not when you are looking at him; but more often than not, you will "catch" him looking at your breasts. These are the dudes who you can at times stare-off by staring back at them. Or the Bludger Bugger: a 'bludge' is an elbow-nudge to the breasts; often done by rather dignified men at social dos, parties and in situations you are least expecting someone to go for your mammaries. It's always a oh-am-sorry-i-bludged-you thing and the Elbows of these gentlemen will often brush against the sides of your breasts while passing a drink, pointing out something or just generally, 'by chance' when talking. Or the Jiggolo: the guy who loves to see a healthy pair of hooters, jiggling. Much like Bart Simpson, if they are big and they are moving, I am going to look at them! However, the daring of these dudes don't just stop at looking. They think that a woman with Big Breasts has to pay some sort of tax for having big ones...usually the tax being letting men bump into her or rub past her etc. Or the Gotta Be Boob guys, who don't mind the girl as long as she has Big Breasts. At one or the other point, I have dated all of the above.

Sigh. Those were the Big Breast days. Now, I have shrunk to half my size and so have them Big Breasts. There was a time when buying the right bra was difficult because there weren't many makes that made bras with the 'right support'. From that to recently realising that the god damn bra was freely moving around inside my shirt...because the breasts had bloody shrunk! Like wearing a loose shirt, it falls all over... Or for that matter realising the trauma that your best fitting top suddenly does not do what it's supposed to do. Now any idiot will tell you that women do not just BUY clothes to wear them. They buy a certain item of clothing because apart from reasons of modesty, that item of clothing also 'does' something for that girl. Like make her look slim. Or make her feel confident. Or make her feel pretty. So you can imagine the trauma when I realised that the top that was my Favourite Sexy Top because it showed just the amount of cleavage I liked (and liked to show!)... had become this strange garment that try hard as I might, I just could not get a bloody cleavage! :( It's gone!!! I mean HELL, from being Miss Busty, recently one of my friends suggested padding my bra to fit into my OWN now-extremely-loose blouse! PADDING~ Ugh. :(

They were my assets. Now I have reduced weight, am the slimmest I have ever been in my life; and looking good too. BUT there are no Big Breasts. In fact, now these aren't even boobs the way I knew them once. (sob) I know have mere Booblets. Sigh.

Post Scrap: As the Princess walked on the fresh grass and felt the soft blades curling between her naked toes, Death said, "You can have all this green grass you know, it's greener than what you have ever known," and smiled his macabre smile. And the Princess contemplated..."But isn't this grass growing on the septic tank?"