Monday 15 February 2016

Growing Up With Big Boobs

For most of my life I’ve had big boobs. In my experience that phrase strikes envy into the hearts of women far and wide. Having a fuller bust is something that is praised and celebrated in our society and means that you’re one step closer to that “perfect body” that we see splattered across television screens, magazines and posters everywhere.

But in my experience having big boobs has been far from ideal.

I was an early developer. My boobs appeared literally over night when I was ten years old and I hated them with a passion. I hated the feeling of having to wear a bra, I hated that I still had to get undressed for PE lessons in front of the boys in my class, and I hated how these two bumps on my chest suddenly made me stand out amongst my peers.

One of my earliest negative experiences with my boobs is from one lunch time, back when I was in junior school. My “friends” wouldn’t talk to me and had spent our entire lunch break whispering behind my back. I was so upset and didn’t know what I’d done wrong. I ran to the girls toilets in floods of tears only for a girl I barely knew from the year below me to ask if it was true that I stuffed my bra to get boys to notice me? Because that was the rumour that a girl I considered a friend had started about me that lunch time.

I remember sitting in the bath that night wishing as hard as I could that these things would go away so that I could have my friends back, so people would stop talking about them, so I could be a kid again. I was so upset and disgusted by my body that I faked sick for the rest of the week so I wouldn’t have to go into school.

The first time I remember being street harassed was when I was walking down the road to my friend’s house. I must have been around twelve years old. It was summer, I had on a tank top, and I was making the short walk over to the next street from my house when a group of middle-aged men in a work van slowed down and shouted “Show us your tits, love! Go on! Get them out!” I was twelve years old and I was terrified. I crossed my arms over my chest and ran the rest of the way to my friend’s house with them following along honking the van horn and laughing. Sadly, this would be the first of many incidents throughout my life where men would feel that it was okay to comment on my boobs in public.  

Things only got worse when I went to secondary school. By then I was a thirteen year old girl with a C cup chest - mix that in with a school full of horny teenage boys and well, let’s just say that it was like a lamb walking into a field full of lions.

New rumours flew around that I was a slut and that I’d let boys touch my chest. Boys would reach out and try and grope at them in school corridors. I got asked out a lot by older boys who thought that me having big boobs automatically meant that I was up for sex, and that because we were going out that they had a right to it.

Occasionally, if one of the PE teachers was off sick, the girls and boys would have to do PE together. One time I remember a particularly excruciating hour of trampolining - let me tell you that was a show and a half for the boys in my year group and something that makes me wince even when I think back on it today.

For the longest time I hated my boobs. They didn’t feel like mine but something that belonged to other people and something people could judge me on. It felt like everybody had something to say about my body and my sexuality in relation to my chest size. As a shy, awkward, teenager, I had far more questions asked about my boobs than I was comfortable with and experienced things like people asking if they’re real, boys only being interested in one thing, and street harassment on a daily basis.

I finished school as a D cup and now as an F cup still experience these things from time to time. It certainly helps that I’m not in a testosterone filled high school environment anymore. As an adult woman my problems now usually involve back pain and trying to find a store that carries my bra size.

Having a large chest can be such a coveted thing for women, but for me personally it’s something that I’ve always struggled with. I’d love to be able to say to you that this is all a thing of the past and that I now love my boobs but although I’ve gotten better I’m still not there yet, but I’m working on it.

Having big boobs can be far from ideal. They can draw unwanted attention, cause physical problems from the weight and are often used as a comical talking point. I hope I’ve shed some light on that by sharing my experiences of growing up with big boobs today.


  1. I know exactly how you feel. Luckily I was at an all girls school and didn't really notice my boobs at school - my sister's were much bigger so it was no big deal, until I went to a mixed 6th form, and it was a rude (in all senses of the word) awakening. Even now I'm a woman of a certain age, they are touched, groped, grabbed and commented on frequently, and not just by strangers. It's infuriating, and depressing. Just last week, a man who I knew slightly just grabbed one - he may as well have said 'honk' it was that sort of grab. Which, as most women will know, is painful as well as humiliating. Other people were with me, and I felt I needed to laugh it off as we were at a party. Which makes me cross now. It wasn't funny. My daughter is now suffering the same fate. However, at 17 she is a lot more switched on, and understands that street harassment and inappropriate comments are not OK, and she won't stand for it. I wish I'd understood that, instead of just feeling slightly bewildered and ashamed. My task now is to make sure my boys understand that they never ever ever treat women in this way. It's the only way to try to end this crap.

    1. I've experienced the touching, groping and rude comments too which are so humiliating. I wish I understood what street harassment was when I was a teen, I just felt so dirty and like I just had to take it when I was younger. I'm so glad younger generations are learning that this is not okay. Only now as an adult woman do I find it easier to stand up for myself and shut that crap down, but even then it's hard to demand respect for my body even though it shouldn't be.


No judgment, no hate, because it is already tough enough being a girl.