save the boobies
i was 5'6'' and a 34B at 11, with a 22'' waist and 36" hips. everyone else was short, flat, and looked like kids. even those "blossoming" had more of an innocent lolita thing going compared to the undeniable womanhood of my body. i wore baggy clothes and continued on my geeky antisocial path through 6th grade. aside from bra snaps and comments/glares in gym class, i was able to get by without too much attention.
that summer we moved from the houston suburbs to a very small town in michigan. i was forced to change my tactics. i was the most physically mature girl in the school (including the older eighth graders). this garnered quite a bit of attention. i milked it. i didn't wear a shirt with a high collar for three years, blaming my resistance to turtlenecks on my texas roots.
my tits held power, whether they were being felt up behind the school, or awkwardly brushed by my youth minister as he helped me with the collar of my choir robe.
then i moved again. i decided to take some time off from my sex life (recognizing that i was using relationships to bolster my then non-existent sense of self worth). and the rest of the world caught up. although i still garnered a great deal of attention, it was primarily from older men, no longer my obnoxious peers who were busy oogling the other girls with bigger boobs.
but over the last few years, things have changed. i have grown. and so have they. i swear the last twenty pounds went straight to my tits. suddenly i have a crevice in my cleavage. a pretty girl first mentioned me to a mutual friend in the context of "she has the most beautiful breasts!" and i love them. they feel great to hold (many can concur). now i'm afraid to make conscious effort to loose weight, because i don't want them to go away. i love my body and it's comfy, but if i grow much larger it could become awkward. body angst.
and there is also the knowledge of the strong family history of breast cancer (one dead grandmother and a younger sister, 16!, who has already had two surgeries). i grew up anticipating a masectomy. i even have sketches of potential tattoos for the scars. worrying about size or sag seems petty in light of their potential to turn against me.
but aside from the angst, the girls are doing fine. flashing and/or boldly grabbing my boobs as a show of the power of my sex (with a snarky laugh, of course) have become a regular sight for my nearest and dearest. i think i may need to buy them some jewelry.