Am I making mountains out of my mole hills?
I am a devoted viewer of Bravo TVs Real Housewives series. It’s a reality show that focuses on the lives and loves of a group of spoilt, rich, self-centered lunatics who SO do not give a shit about what anyone thinks that they go out of their way to be even more themselves. It’s too generous and too much fun to pass up. Each week as I watch these ladies shop, party and malign each other behind each others’ backs I feel an occasional pang of jealousy. You see all of them have big boobs and I have a major case of boob envy.
I am a straight woman who is obsessed with breasts. If there is a boob in the vicinity I will stare at it although I am partial to a D+ cup size. If I am in a conversation with a woman I find myself examining her bosom constantly. It is an awful affliction that I have to live with and the reason I am so fixated with boobage is because I wasn’t raised in a nice flat chested country like Japan or China. I was raised in India where it felt like ALL the women had big, bountiful boobs.
When my parents bought me my first Barbie doll – ‘Ballerina Barbie’ – I immediately locked myself in the bathroom, ripped her tutu off and subjected her to a mammogram. I would stare at my boney chest in the mirror and hope that one day I too would have what she had. Now I know that this may seem like an early age to worry about breasts but I had already spent a lot of my time locked in bathrooms trying on my mother’s bras which is what got me worried about my future in the first place. She wasn’t that well endowed herself. I saw the other mothers marching about showing off their cleavages and I felt bad because as a family we were thoroughly unimpressive.
I entered my teens and then proceeded in to my late-teens flat as a board. I went to a boarding school where I shared a dorm with 14 other girls. With the exception of a few other unfortunates they all had boobs, and bras in to which they would put these boobs each day. Back then we didn’t have trainer bras in India, we didn’t have anything that could help a flat chested girl feel like one of the crowd. I had to wear – I hate having to even think about it – a child sized wife beater like the boys. And to make sure I never lost these valuable items my mother had helpfully embroidered R. VAZ in caps, in red on the right chest area.
It wasn’t like I was miserable about this all day everyday but now and then something would happen to showcase my inadequacies. We all wore white shirts for sporting activities and one day as we were playing hockey, and all the girls bouncing about in their bras except for me, it began to rain. It was a full on downpour and in minutes it was like a wet t-shirt contest. Everyone ran to take cover in the gym. Where ALL the boys were. My top was soaked and the R.VAZ was glowing through like a neon sign. I was mortified – now the whole school would know that I did not wear a bra. They had probably guessed this but now it would be confirmed.
I begged with a friend to give me her sweater – she had huge boobs and surely would not mind showing them off. She looked at me like I was insane.
If I take it off you can see can see everything! My shirt is wet and there are guys in the gym!
What?! Wasn’t the whole point of having boobs for boys to look at? We were 14 years old what else were we going to do with our boobs anyway? I never understood it and I never forgave her.
I still don’t get women who complain about having boobs that are ‘too big’.
Oh Radhika you are so lucky you can wear anything – you don’t even need a bra.
Or girls who complain about the ‘wrong kind of attention’.
I can’t believe that guy! He was staring at my chest the whole time – I was like excuse me my eyes are up here.
You know what – stop whinging and be grateful. Be grateful you have boobs and be grateful that someone is staring at them. Eye contact is over rated – trust me.
i take this blog as a personal affront. (pun fully intended)
i must say i so agree with u on this…….lets get a group discount on boob jobs !!!!!hillarious by the way…The “RED R VAZ”………..
Are YOU whinging???? please take a look at the picture on your blog-and don’t ever complain again-EVER
EXAAACTLY bleddy!!! yu… dont what molehills are till yu see what i see daily.. baah.. and now after tara has had at ‘em… they are a whole new species… forget moles, seen alfonso mangoes?????
That picture is professionally taken – it’s thebest angle we could get and I am so proud of it it’s on my damn blog!!!
you are my boob model
! and mine boobs stayed the same size as they were in a high school 
.
!
So pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee enjoy what u have B
I loved your blog..I can so relate to this blog…i was flat chested for 15 years of my life…but i think i have decent size boobs now…thank goodness!
Well done! Hahaha. I appreciate that I have them 98% of the time- but be lucky that you can wear backless ourfits with no bra and not hit yourself in the face when you dance!
Well Done!!!
amen Radz…i hear ya..i am probably one of the few mothers out there who will forever be grateful to pregnancy for giving me them boobs!
i love the header…you go girl!
bitch! i remember you analyzing mine and giving some major ones!! you dont need bigger boobs you need glasses to look and yours and say hello =)
if i’ve said it once, i’ve said it a million times. once you’ve attained majority – that is gone past 18 – you’ve lost the right (that’s if you had one in the first place) to hold thy parents responsible for any & all sorry plights. this includes chesty ones. but parents never lose the right to tell progeny what to do! so here’s a tell: get yourself a couple of padded you-know-what and get on with it instead of whinging & whining.