|Yep, I've always been little with big feet.|
Thanks to my grandmother and mother, I'm stacked like a twelve-year-old boy, but there are advantages to being blessed with no chest. Itty bitty booby committee members, listen up.
First, allow me to highlight the pitfalls of having a washboard that extends from abs to shoulders.
One, almost every billowy blouse requires an undershirt unless I want to lean over and flash the Grand Canyon to anyone in sight. Hmmm, Grand Canyon is a terrible metaphor because the Grand Canyon actually has raised terrain. Perhaps that's wishful thinking. Now it's not that I dislike undershirts, but sometimes a girl just wants to throw on one shirt and feel satisfied that everything under it will remain unseen until it's replaced by pajamas.
Two, nearly every well-endowed woman feels that it's her duty to explain to me the plight of possessing chesticles. I don't understand your goal for discussing this issue with me. Are you trying to make sure that I never buy (or attempt to grow) boobs of my own? Are you attempting to insult my lack of growth? Are you just in need of an ear (one that can be only sympathetic, not empathetic)?
Three, it gets old being teased for "having a front as flat as your back" and sporting "mosquito bites." We've heard all of the insults, so let's move on.
Now that I'm older and care less about public opinion than I once did, I see the perks to having no more than a handful.
One, almost no shirt looks scandalous on a woman with a pre-teen upper half. (I've heard so many voluptuous women complain about their "girls" making them look like a prostitute, and not the gorgeous Julia Roberts type.) Side note: though it's nice not to worry about looking too scantily clad, let it be known, that sometimes it would be nice to actually fill out a shirt. Just sayin'.
Two, I can squeeze through small spaces without any obstacles in front of me, or on the front of me. Unlike one of our dogs, I can think small and actually be small. I think our 48-pound dog looks at our 28-pound dog and thinks, "Hey, if she can fit through that sliver of a space between the chair and the table, then so can I." She then proceeds to smash into the table leg. Thwarted again by your look-big-think-small mentality, my dear.
Three, nothing can sag, if there's nothing to sag.
Four, I can [sometimes] fabricate the illusion that something exists between my belly button and chin. Without the aid of three sports bras and rolls of duct tape, it's darn near impossible for well endowed women to hide their bounty.
Five, boobs will never be the cause of my back problems. (Just stupid men who crash into the back of my car while I'm sitting at a red light.)
Allow me to close my thoughts with this commentary. Women need to stop making each other feel ashamed of their sizes.
The next time you healthy, thicker-than-me girls dine out at your favorite restaurant, please consider all of those delicious foods that you can eat without repercussions and remember that some of us "skinny" girls might never be able to eat them without severe intestinal distress (or death). For you mean thin girls, consider that the voluptuous woman you're making fun of for being "fat" might have a thyroid that's crashing, or she might be taking medication that made her gain a lot of weight that she's trying to lose, or she might have undiagnosed Celiacs that's making her whole body swell with every bite of foods she doesn't realize she should avoid.
I know I started with boobs, but the bigger picture is this: women, you don't know why a woman is the size she is (even when you think you know, you don't), so try to focus on the positives. Maybe she has amazing shoes, or she has such beautiful curls. For the past few years, I've tried to refocus my thinking. When I catch myself making a snarky remark (which always stems from my own insecurities), I try to find something positive or at least acknowledge that I'm jealous of her __________.
(I'm even finding it much harder to watch any "reality" TV because of how mean they are to each other. Of course, that doesn't mean I've stopped watching shows that turn my brain to mush after a long day of teaching.)
The less time we spend bashing other women the more time we free up to better ourselves.