Boobs, boobs, boobs, lotta boobs: Living with big knockers and working it

In one of my first year 7 maths lessons, all the students had to line up in order of shoe size to dictate the mean, median, and range of our class' feet. At the time, I was a size 3 – an unheard of shoe size for someone of that age, at least I thought. This was one of the first times that I started to consciously become aware that I had been born into the small variety of human beings.

As a sort-of adult in my twenties, I know it's over for me on the growth spurt front. I’m going to forever be 5’1 ½ (the half is really a kick in the vag – so close yet so far to 5’2) and will always have small hands, fingers, toes and feet.

For the most part, though, I discovered being small is pretty sweet.  Sure, you can’t quite reach that box of beloved chocolaty Coco Pop goodness in the cabinet made for those of an average height, buying jeans is the worst thing known to man kind, and, frustratingly, your eye-level is the back of people’s heads at gigs, but there are plenty of upsides. Like being able to get super snug with someone, squeezing into excellent hiding spots for a game of hide and seek, and feeling like Neo from The Matrix when you slide through a crowd full of zombie-like London commuters.

Oh, and I heard that being small leads to a life of eternal cute-dom (whatever the hell that is).

I did say I'd heard the rumours, didn't I?
My short stature was never really an issue after a certain age. I mean, it wasn't one the aspects of my body that was specifically targeted, bullying wise, so that was alright. My height doesn't really affect my day-to-day life in the way that those born with restricted growth does, either (and good on you guys who work that shit), so there is no need for me to whinge and moan about the hand I've been dealt. 

There is one part of my body that didn't seem to fit with the tiny proportions of my petite self, mind you.  My mum liked to ask the question, "Where did those come from?" on a regular basis as if I had some kind of special witchcraft power to enhance any part of the human anatomy. My dad likened the item of clothing that held my two pups together as a tent.

Yes, joy behold, I am the owner of big boobs. 

*Cue the hallelujah music* 

Work it, Barack, work it.
The peculiar part is I never noticed my boobies until someone else pointed out that they were big. In fact, I thought they were smaller in comparison to my mum's. Fact: they're not. 

As soon as I was aware of their size, I did everything to cover them up. I wore baggy t-shirts and jumpers, trying to hide the fact I owned a considerably large pair of knockers at a very young age. I've never been a person who likes to be noticed - mingling in the background is more of my style - so being endowed with tits the size of my head was an enormous no-no for me, especially the fact that there is still this completely unjust idolisation of massive baps in our 21st century society. 

Whether the view point that big breasts are better than tinier ones stemmed from porn (which it probably did) or from other sources, it doesn't mean that anything pass a double cup size is not worthy of your fondling attention. All tits are awesome. Big, small, whatever – it doesn't matter. Whoever is lucky enough to be touching a pair (yours!) should be worshipping them with their whole being. It's like the myth of an 11 inch dick being a better fuck than your average penis. Another fact: It's not.

Before I slowly started learning to love my own bumbling boob duo (and hey, I’m still working on it), having DD's wasn't as fun as 30H!3 made it out to be. Actually, that song gives off the vibes that perverts across the nation will be wolf whistling at you from every turn (which I learnt is quite factual, to an extent).

Throughout the years of having titayyyys, I gathered a list of cons to the birth of the big guns that some of you may have experienced:
  • You can’t run down the stairs with no bra on without that shit flapping everywhere. And sometimes it kind of hurts.
  • They make your posture emulate the perpetually hunched Quasimodo.
I still love you, Quasi. 
  • No matter what item of clothing you buy, loose or fitted, your tits always look like they could belong to King Kong. 
  • I don’t usually care about bras (I have a maximum of 3 and one of which I've owned for the past 7 years - yes, I know this is bad so don't lecture me about it), but on the off chance I may have a little mosey around the web for something a tad more flattering than the 'collection' I have, I realise the exact reason why I never even bother searching for that stuff. 
  • "I'm so looking forward to all those extra stretch marks and inevitable sagging in the next few decades" - said by no one, ever. 
  • Unwanted attention from creepy guys (it’s a sad state of affairs when us busty babes have slime ball blokes assuming that, because we have bigger knockers than others, we’d be up for a quick blowie in a piss smelling back alley). Fuck off back to the pervy pit you emerged from.

As with most things, though, there are positives to the negatives. The majority of us learn to live with what we've got and adapt our routines around it. Having substantially large gazongas doesn't put a stop to our existences. As much as I'd love to sit around in my pyjamas, watching earlier seasons of Hell's Kitchen while eating a whole box of mouth-watering Jaffa Cakes, I have to venture out into the real world (in non-sleeping clothes, sans Jaffa Cakes) sometimes. 

To combat the annoying reasons I mentioned above about having gargantuan boobies, I devised a completely foolproof plan to carry on living life as a person with an average cup size like you've always dreamed of:

  • For the love of everything holy, hold your tits when you're galloping down the stairs bra-less. While it may look like you're having a good old fondle, you'll save yourself  accidentally whacking one boob into the other.

  • Straighten up your back by having lots of cowgirl position sex. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't (if you gotta hunch, you gotta hunch - simple as) but it is a temporary solution to back woes. If it is actual serious back pain, and you do start to develop a Quasimodo posture, go and see a doctor or something. 

  • Big boobs are big boobs. Whatever you wear those melons are gonna stick out. It may be possible that they look a touch different than you naked, but face the facts here - they're not going anywhere. So wear what makes you feel comfortable and boobylicious. Who really cares, anyway?
  • There are places that exist that sell bras that aren't really that bad in comparison to the monstrosities that M&S advertise. They're not cheap, but if you want something that is slightly more appeasing to the eye, Boux Avenue is your new, and far hotter, bff.  
  • Calm your shit -we all have stretch marks and something sagging somewhere, we just don't like to talk about it because humans can be idiots a lot of the time. If you don't have it going on now, chances are it's going to happen sooner or later so better start learning to love those little aging processes, or the changes in your body once you've dropped out a baby, otherwise you're going to be in debt for thousands of pounds worth of plastic surgery and I don't think you really want that on top of that £9,000 student loan you're still paying off. 
  • I'm not one to promote violence, but when push comes to shove, Moe taught me a valuable life lesson.

There are also some rather cool personal uses for your boobs that most likely weren't God's intentions when the Almighty created the universe, but whatever - like you really give a rats arse. 

  • They are the perfect pillow and it's safe to say the whole world agrees with this statement. 
  • Pretending that your tits are a machine gun, shooting down anyone that steps to you, is some of the most fun you'll ever have.
You wouldn't try it on with this crazy-as-hell chick now, would ya'?
  • You or a partner/friend/stranger can beat on them (in a way that doesn't actually hurt, unless you're into that kind of thing) like a bongo drum. 
  • If your breasts are a decent enough size, if you hold them together with your man's schlong inserted in between, you'll be able to jack him off with no problems.
  • They speak to you in a language that only you can understand. *This may or may not be true.

And if all you bosomy ladies want someone to crown as your queen of busty greatness, look no further than Elvira. 

This bitch is not only as boobified as they come, she's fly as fuck. And well, if you can't see that, you really need to reevaluate your existence on this planet.


  1. Haha love this! I'm 5'1 1/2 too- it sucks so much. Although, I do act all high and mighty in front of my mum who is a miniscule 5'1.
    And yes, gotta love one's own boobs.

    1. Thanks Nikhat, and yes, another one of us to the small pack!

      For ages, I honestly thought that I was at least 5'2/5'3, but when I went to the doctor for a prescription, I had a look at my file on the computer screen and realised "Wow, I'm not even close to average height." But apart from the odd things that are very height restricting, it isn't as bad as it used to be, I'd say. The jean situation is still one of the most annoying things though. There is this weird body standard situation in fashion in particular that find it really hard to cater to people who don't fit into a particular mould but you can work around it if you try. When I went to Japan, all their shit was made for my height that I didn't need to try anything on. It was like I found a mecca of short-people clothing.

      And yeah, completely agree - you've got to love your own boobs, and for ages I didn't (and still have issues). But writing out this made me think, "Hey, ya know, it ain't so bad!". The attention is probably the worst and that Moe advice is certainly useful in those circumstances.

  2. Awesome. My friend should read this, she has really big boobs and is often annoyed by that. Can't say there's anything helpful here for me since I'm a typical North European girl - tall with small boobs. But still. I think we all need to calm down a bit about our bodies.

    1. Thanks Mette! And by all means send it over to your friend (even though it's not actually real advice or anything). I completely get where she's coming from when she mentioned to you that it can be frustrating, especially the weird creepy men thing - which you'd be surprised happens a lot more than you'd like to think - but once you'r owning your body, it's not that much of an issue and you can generally ignore it (or a quick kick to the nuts will do it). The posture situation is a pain in the arse though and that is probably one of the solid things I said here - it can really fuck that shit up.

      Totally agree that we need to calm down about our bodies. Everyone has their own uniqueness about them in terms of appearances, and honestly, all this body-standard shit we have going on is rather tiring. There are plus sides and the negative sides to all our little quirks but it's all based on a certain look that a lot of people have as the 'ideal woman' or 'ideal man' which is really laughable. We gotta work with what we've got, after all.

  3. As a guy, I'm likely not qualified to say anything else other than, great post!

    1. Thanks dude. And I think we're all qualified on the front to say: Who cares? All boobs are awesome (as M pointed out below).

  4. If only women could realize the fat that guys pretty much love everything about them, regardless. Big boobs, small boobs, one boob, whatever. There is seriously a guy out there ready to buy what you're selling, no matter what.

    In what could be considered a massive understatement, ladies tend to um, overthink things. Well, unless you're pretending that your breasts are machine guns and mowing down everything in sight...

    Great post!

    1. I 100% am with you on that front. Boobs are one of the weirdest, yet greatest, creations of someones body. The fact that there is so much highlight on the 'bigger boobs are better' is ridiculous. There is no perfect pair of tits, god dammit, nor are they usually the exact same size unless they're surgically enhanced.

      I think we all do have a tendency to over think things, for sure. And using your boobs to gun down everything in sight is actually one of the most fun things ever. I would have had a picture of me doing it, but it best works naked, and I think it's not my time yet for my official nudie (or topless photos) to make their way to the internet.

      Glad you enjoyed the post, man!

  5. sakjdhasj this post is perfect! like literally. i'm 5ft2 and a half with big boobs that I've had basically since primary school because I developed really early and it was so weird for me to hear other people say 'oh i wish i had big boobs... but not as big as yours'. and all the back ache and I walk sometimes like I'm doing Michael Jackson's anti-gravity lean cos I didn't want to stand up straight in case people thought I was pushing my chest out. AND BRAS kjshdkjsjd boob celebration!!! I love this post and i love you

    1. Cheers, man. Really glad you dug the post and I'll be sending you warm love beams across the internet.

      Maybe we should create a short people, big boobed club? I feel like we could be onto something, here.

      I completely get where you're coming from - I was exactly the same. Started developing boobs around 9 or so and by the time I was 11/12/possibly 13, they were roughly the size that they are now. The worst thing about puberty kicking in a little earlier than the average person is the GOD. DAMN. PERIODS. I felt like I was going to die when I first had my period (sure it was me as an 11 year old child freaking out thinking this was the end as no one had really described how much stuff would be coming out of there).

      The Michael Jackson gravity lean is the best thing ever. I wish I was cool enough to do it, and personally, I prefer that move to say the dance routine in Thriller. The lean is the shit, man!

      But more to the point, boob celebration indeed!

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