An Open Letter To My Left Boob, Which Is Much Bigger Than My Right: We Don’t Always Get Along, But I Love You Anyway
I can remember the day I realized that you were dramatically larger than your twin.
While working at Victoria’s Secret waaaaay back in the day, I was asked to try on the new Incredible bra, and whichever ones, in whatever color fit, I could take them home for Free.99 to add to my collection. I was like a kid in a candy store.
I entered the dressing room, you know the ones with the mirrors that can move and give like every angle possible? Yeah, those were the ones I faced when I got undressed that evening. And in that room, as I stood, and as I pulled my bra off, there you sat, looking completely different than my cheap full body college mirror ever let on before.
‘What in the hell!?’
I stood there, shocked and a little sad at what I could somewhat feel for years, but honestly had never seen in this light, in this way. To have an imperfection amplified and seen even if just by myself at every turn, was a bit much. Let’s just say that the rest of the day didn’t go very well emotionally.
But who am I fooling? I could tell something was different about you for years. You made bra shopping the ultimate hassle. While my right boob was down to cooperate and sit comfy in my cups, there you were, being an a**hole again, down to clown. Instead of sitting snug, when I would bend over you would slowly but surely try to peek out of your cup, begging me to go up another cup or to tighten my straps up or adjust my band to contain you. Your behavior is what led me to leave the alluring demi bras and strapless joints behind and go full-on granny with my lingerie, opting for full coverage just to keep you in check. You were annoying, but I never thought you were THAT bad. But it was that particular day in that dressing room that I realized why you had always been a struggle–you had outgrown my right boob at a drastic level, and for me, visually, it was way too much. What was something I was initially aware of and a little shy about became something I wound up being embarrassed by, even if no one else could immediately notice or said anything about it.
And for so long, I was paranoid. I would try and dress uncomfortably in tight stalls at the gym because I wasn’t as confident as some of the women around me who wanted to go commando at the drop of a drawl to show everybody what they were working with. They could do that because their chests were symmetrically on point. And if they weren’t…well, if you’re walking around a room full of women undressed, washing your workout clothes in the sink like folks do at my raggedy gym, you don’t care whose looking at your lumps and bumps anyway. Trying to buy swimwear for my chest became a nightmare, and even when I went to visit the gynecologist, I was literally in a state of extreme discomfort. And once I became sexually active, I was very much worried about you and how the man in my life might react to your appearance.
But to my surprise, he didn’t notice. At all. If he did, he sure didn’t say anything to me. In fact, he often speaks on how he loves my body and the confidence he seems to think I have about it. I think he had me confused with someone else, but I appreciated his kind words. His support of my body image, and you, my lopsided tit, have been encouraging, but honestly, it was my own reality check to myself that made me more confident in you and my body as a whole.
What was I going to do about you? Was I going to get surgery? Was I going to hide in a stanky a** stall every time I needed to change to get my work out on because I thought someone would be looking at me? Was I going to continuously be sad about something I didn’t cause and couldn’t change? The answer to all these things was no. While I would love my chest to sit perfectly, it doesn’t and that’s fine, because I know it’s not the end of the world, and better yet, I’m not alone in the lopsided committee. And if the doctor continues to say that there’s nothing wrong with you, I’m not going to treat you like there is. I might stick with the full coverage bras for simple convenience (aye…they’ve been MAD supportive too), but you’re not going to have me doubting myself any longer.
So yes left boob, we haven’t always had the best relationship, and you’re not perfect, but hey–you’re mine. You, in all your oversized glory, were given to me by God to carry around with confidence, and for that reason, I’ll continue to try my best to do that. We’ve been at odds since you first started growing back when I was still messing with Barbies, but now that we’re older, let’s call a truce and keep it peaceful and perky. Aight?