Big boobs for sale.

"I hate my big breasts" could well have been my tag line two years back. And then I lost close to 30 kgs and literally shrunk in half... all over. Was I happier then or am I happier now...as far as my body is concerned?

Before some of you ask the how-did-you-lose-that-weight question please be aware that I don't think there is any quick, without-side-effects way possible. My losing weight -- after fantasizing since I was 17 years old -- happened by accident. The medical diagnosis was 'stress and starvation' coupled with hyperthyroidism. I was so unhappy that I stopped eating. I could go three days without food and not realise it. From a girl who breathed in air and put on weight to changing into someone who can eat more than Porky the Pig and it won't 'show', the weight issue is something I am still coming to terms with. I am talking weight loss here because fat or thin, big boobs or small, it all has to do with Physical Perfection. Truth be told, I don't think we are ever completely happy or at ease with our bodies...

As a 17-year-old who was an "all-rounder" -- I had fat on every conceivable bone of my body, even on the knuckles -- I often wondered if I would ever have the 'curves' I saw on posters and on models and actresses. When I say curves, I don't mean breasts because I had those in ample. I was a 36 D...on a five-feet-no-inches frame. Each time I looked in the mirror, all I saw was the head, BIG BREASTS, a gut, a HUGE bum and two stick-like legs. I had no 'waist', no demarcation of where the breasts ended and the stomach began, my body was a segregated blob of flesh. I could not wear anything tight because it would either stretch and highlight the rolls I had on me -- and accentuate the bloody breasts -- or be very uncomfortable and look as if I was trying too hard. I could not wear anything loose because then I looked like a tent.

We lived in Amritsar then (three years) and I studied in a school (grades 11 & 12) where there were two types of girls: The hotties and the behenjis ('sisters' but not meant politely at all!) The hotties dressed well with skirts folded at the hem to ride high above the knee, looked good and got much attention from the boys, both inside and outside the school. They studied 'cool' things like commerce or fine arts and were usually the ones to participate in sports and had the best-choreographed dances in school competitions. The behenjis were usually the science students with somber expressions, spectacles (it was supposed to be studious so some had them just to look the part), oil in their hair and no attention from boys. The 'hotties' we had in class tried their best to stand apart and usually hung out with the Commerce kids. I was an outcast in both groups -- definitely NOT a hottie what with oiled hair, a single choti (plait), unwaxed legs, caterpillars for eyebrows and a science student (PCB) at that. I wasn't even a behenji because I had way too much attitude ('cocky' was the term then, 'snarky' is the new one) to fall into that category. The more I felt I didn't fit in, the more defiant I got. That hasn't changed much; I don't know about others, but I don't react too well when pushed into a corner. Hmm.

I have always had male attention though... Some because I was good in studies, some because I made a good 'buddy' and was not 'girly', some because I had more balls than most boys, some because strangely all my female friends were drop-dead gorgeous (that hasn't changed, most of my female friends fall into the really beautiful category) and the boys wanted to get close to those girls and a whole lot because of the bloody breasts. When you are cute, fat and have big breasts men tend to think you would "appreciate" the attention. As you grow older and start fornicating, that ‘kindness’ is called a ‘pity fuck’. As I grew I realised that having a smart mouth and wearing "Fuck you" on your sleeve is taken as a challenge. But at 17 I believed that if I lost weight and looked what I thought I should/ could look like, I'd have the "kind" of man I wanted (or the one I foolishly thought myself to be in love with), wear what I wanted to, not be shy of getting into a swimsuit and looking like a mini blue whale... (shakes head, we can be so stupid when we are young, no?)

I hated my breasts. It was always as if they got the attention and interaction stopped at chest-level. I was banned from playing in school at age 11 because I was the first one in class to sprout breasts and the class teacher found it 'obscene' to let me run amok on the field with boys my age standing and gaping, albeit a bit confused themselves. Two years back when I reduced weight and shrunk... It was like an identity crisis. I had become attuned to making jokes about my breasts to avoid being too conscious about them. And since it was not a healthy weight loss, the breasts looked 'shrunk'...There was loose skin, no adipose tissue in them and they looked shrivelled. I was terrified and scared. And it didn't help that almost ALL women and men I knew started espousing epitaphs about my breasts. "My god, you had such breasts, now you look dried up." "Damn, you looked healthier then, what happened to you?" And so on and so forth... Funnily enough, these were the same people who'd say things like, "If only you'd lose some weight, you'd look SO good." "Damn your breasts are disproportionate to your height you know JB, try a reducing bra." Hah.

Now I am the EXACT image of what I'd visualised myself at 17 and had given up on by 24... Now my stats read 34-23-35. I love my hair, some fine lines and wrinkles have appeared but I know that quitting cigarettes will get rid of those. I have a chin now (earlier the cheeks masked it), I discovered bones I thought I didn't have...like the pelvic bones. But am I happy with myself physically? (Smiles)

After careful consideration, I would say it's a 95 % "yes". There are moments when I wish my hair was as lustrous as it was at 17, or wish the laugh lines around my mouth would go, or my skin wouldn't feel as papery, or wish I could have a slightly higher arch to my brows or wish my brows weren't as tough to give shape to, or wish I had perfect abs (now that it's an almost flat tummy) and want biceps and triceps and muscles... I am also finicky about the condition of my feet and can sit and scrub for hours. Then there is the paranoia about putting on weight and suddenly waking up one day and finding the 17-year-old is back. (I was my heaviest at 25 years, 68 kgs and at my lightest, a year back, weighed 35 kgs).

Point being: We CANNOT be physically perfect and the more we try, the more we keep trying. 'Physical perfection' is like cocaine, you start slow, enjoy it, indulge in it, spend more money on it and eventually you get fucked. Big boobs, small boobs, big dicks, fair skin, a higher brow arch, steeper cheek bones, a sleeker nose, flatter stomach, fuller chest muscles to no wrinkles... Anything that you don't like about yourself can be fixed. Despite the 5 % unsurity, I am done wanting more from myself. I am done criticising myself for not looking a certain way and for not pleasing everyone's eye.

PS: I shared all of the above for my friend who told me that she loved the post because for long she considered herself flat-chested. For another friend who went in for rhinoplasty (nose job) and eyelid operation because she got many stares from people. For one of my cousins who had one eye severely smaller than the other as a child and was the butt of jokes at school, he’s a guy. For the married lady I had interviewed long back who has had six tummy tucks so far and is still not happy. For another who thinks she needs an upliftment because her breasts sag. For the friend in grade 9 who had a huge birthmark on her left eye and it looked like an eye patch...and she refused to get it fixed. And more than anyone else... for the anonymous lady who wrote in saying she is going in for breast reduction. Please go ahead no matter who says what, but please consider whether you will really be happy with it in the long term: Small or not, your breasts will still draw attention. I can understand the TRAUMA of breasts that start to shadow your whole existence... But do be prepared that the comments and advice from so-called well-wishers will only get worse. Best of luck with the procedure once you have it done; hope the happiness stays.