G, not G
Without Prejudice
"I'm not a G" I said to the young English girl with the lengthy false eyelashes, a tape measure around her neck.
She demurred, her the underwear expert at Debenhams in Wakefield.
I was glad I was down to a 36 " Bra measurement but a G cup, no way, but I was. Most stores not stocking a size over DD, that being seen as the normal average English breast measurement after that it's way too big, even bigger and G.
I cried when I was told I was an E, now a G to contend with. My female family all big busted and tiny in stature. My Aunt calls it our top shelf and we are always dropping food on our tops. We reckon it's not us missing our mouths but that other people throw food at us. Constantly.
Who cares really ? G is just a size, after all, just a number to assess size. I wonder what would happen if I lost the female part of my self that is contained in breast tissue. OMG, if they had to remove my breast tissue in an operation they would be there for hours pumping away with a liposuction wand. Ergh.
They then detach the nipple, double ergh. Leave a piece of tissue connected and squish the old breast pocket up like a concertina fan and reattach the nipple. They are not altogether sure if you retain feeling any more but I would guarantee you don't. I had stomach plastic surgery years ago and most of my stomach is still numb in places and that was over 30 years ago.
Not a good option at all.
What of the ladies that lose their breasts to cancer ? They grieve, some of them, for their breasts. Better to be alive. I just hope I never have to make that decision as I am already minus a uterus, a gall bladder and 9 inches of a baby belly. I didn't grieve for any of them. Not especially the womb as it had done it's job four times over. But breasts ?
I complain about them, hide them with cleverly constructed tops, get peed off at men admiring them but then secretly love it that they do. I am not without flaw, vanity being one of them. But G ? Why
can't I have a nice 34B as they once were ? Ah well they breastfed children since then. Stretched and shrunk during years of pregnancy, 3 years I spent pregnant. Waiting for a birth and reawakened terror that one day I would have to once again I had to go through labour.
Every woman must think as they approach imminent birth, ( we writhing creature like, returned so easily to animal,)
" What am I doing on this labour table, again ? "
Because we forget, that's why and only remember when we are back on that skinny table whose bottom drops away, our trembling legs shaking with andrenalin, our focus on breathing and trying not to scream or grab our husbands testicles and rip them up over their head. The thought in ones head of never getting in to this situation again, ever. But we do.
The fact that your breasts turn into humongous bricks on your chest that leak and hurt is never fully explained completely enough for me. One morning you wake up and your breasts don't move, even when you step in the shower naked. They stand sentinel like pointed at the tiles instead of the floor. They feel red hot and sore and when the shower strikes them you yelp in agony.
Even better, they leak at the most inopportune moments and you spend a lot of time fiddling with breast pads, front opening bras and strange tops. I once held a child on one breast and watched helplessly as milk pumped out over the floor from the other un fettered boob. I grabbed a towel and held it to my chest and slowed the flow to a steady drizzle.
Even then I was never a G.
Ah well, the indignities of age have begun and as a woman I am used to it. But I don't want the bra, I
determine instead to lose the holiday fat I have put on. No point really, within weeks I will be back to some normal size. And if you believe that I have a small piece of real estate you may be interested in. Top shelf anyone ? Lol.
P.S. Saved by the bell ! I look up the Aussie equivalent to a U.K. 36 G, in Aussie speak, conversion, and I am a 34 D D. Thank you God !
X
"I'm not a G" I said to the young English girl with the lengthy false eyelashes, a tape measure around her neck.
She demurred, her the underwear expert at Debenhams in Wakefield.
I was glad I was down to a 36 " Bra measurement but a G cup, no way, but I was. Most stores not stocking a size over DD, that being seen as the normal average English breast measurement after that it's way too big, even bigger and G.
I cried when I was told I was an E, now a G to contend with. My female family all big busted and tiny in stature. My Aunt calls it our top shelf and we are always dropping food on our tops. We reckon it's not us missing our mouths but that other people throw food at us. Constantly.
Who cares really ? G is just a size, after all, just a number to assess size. I wonder what would happen if I lost the female part of my self that is contained in breast tissue. OMG, if they had to remove my breast tissue in an operation they would be there for hours pumping away with a liposuction wand. Ergh.
They then detach the nipple, double ergh. Leave a piece of tissue connected and squish the old breast pocket up like a concertina fan and reattach the nipple. They are not altogether sure if you retain feeling any more but I would guarantee you don't. I had stomach plastic surgery years ago and most of my stomach is still numb in places and that was over 30 years ago.
Not a good option at all.
What of the ladies that lose their breasts to cancer ? They grieve, some of them, for their breasts. Better to be alive. I just hope I never have to make that decision as I am already minus a uterus, a gall bladder and 9 inches of a baby belly. I didn't grieve for any of them. Not especially the womb as it had done it's job four times over. But breasts ?
I complain about them, hide them with cleverly constructed tops, get peed off at men admiring them but then secretly love it that they do. I am not without flaw, vanity being one of them. But G ? Why
can't I have a nice 34B as they once were ? Ah well they breastfed children since then. Stretched and shrunk during years of pregnancy, 3 years I spent pregnant. Waiting for a birth and reawakened terror that one day I would have to once again I had to go through labour.
Every woman must think as they approach imminent birth, ( we writhing creature like, returned so easily to animal,)
" What am I doing on this labour table, again ? "
Because we forget, that's why and only remember when we are back on that skinny table whose bottom drops away, our trembling legs shaking with andrenalin, our focus on breathing and trying not to scream or grab our husbands testicles and rip them up over their head. The thought in ones head of never getting in to this situation again, ever. But we do.
The fact that your breasts turn into humongous bricks on your chest that leak and hurt is never fully explained completely enough for me. One morning you wake up and your breasts don't move, even when you step in the shower naked. They stand sentinel like pointed at the tiles instead of the floor. They feel red hot and sore and when the shower strikes them you yelp in agony.
Even better, they leak at the most inopportune moments and you spend a lot of time fiddling with breast pads, front opening bras and strange tops. I once held a child on one breast and watched helplessly as milk pumped out over the floor from the other un fettered boob. I grabbed a towel and held it to my chest and slowed the flow to a steady drizzle.
Even then I was never a G.
Ah well, the indignities of age have begun and as a woman I am used to it. But I don't want the bra, I
determine instead to lose the holiday fat I have put on. No point really, within weeks I will be back to some normal size. And if you believe that I have a small piece of real estate you may be interested in. Top shelf anyone ? Lol.
P.S. Saved by the bell ! I look up the Aussie equivalent to a U.K. 36 G, in Aussie speak, conversion, and I am a 34 D D. Thank you God !
X
