After losing almost twenty-five pounds, my boobs have quickly shrunk from C’s to A’s. I haven’t gotten around to buying a new bra yet, and it is a little strange to me how my bra gaps open or how many times the straps fall to my shoulders during the day. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve had this issue. I go around complaining about this to friends quite often, and they all assure me that my boobs look fine and still existent. But here’s a little secret: It’s not something I truly need to be comforted about. My complaints are actually boasts in disguise. I’ve always felt more comfortable and confident with smaller boobies. I find them dainty and girly and adorable. I like feeling cute as opposed to sultry. (It also helps to have a husband who isn’t huge on boob size. Ha. Get it?!) I know that my take on the breast issue isn’t quite society’s or dude’s or even many girl’s idea of the ideal figure. And that’s okay. I’m not searching for any common definition of perfection, because if I can accept and love something about myself that others may call imperfect, that’s even better.
All of this boob on the brain made me think about my other quirks that I’ve come to embrace. My clumsiness. My big feet. My inability to wear heels. My lack of dancing abilities. My lack of singing abilities. My inability to sit still at hair appointments. The fact that I rarely shut-up. The fact that, much to husband’s dismay, I often forget about open blinds and tend to walk around the house naked. My un-manicured hands, non-pedied toes and make-up less face. My many freckles. The tendency I have to “clean up” by throwing things in the nearest closet. The fact that I’ve been told I run like a monkey. My unquenchable curiosity about everything and everyone. My need to pee every five minutes or so after a glass of wine. The tendency I have to get excited about pretty much everything. My habit of playing with my wedding rings when I’m distracted. The habit I have of talking to myself, sometimes publicly. My want to sit down with strangers, with the world and with you to talk about life over a cup of coffee.
And you know, this may be a little forward, but I think you should embrace your A-cupness too. Or your too small or too big butt-ness. Or your afraid of the dark-ness. Or your left-handedness. Or your laughs at bad jokes-ness. Or your singing out of tune-ness. Or your awkwardness.Or your nail-bitingness. Your you-ness. Because what it should be about is happiness. Flaunt it not necessarily because you got it, but because you’re okay with not having it. Because you’re thankful to be alive, or to have boobs, or to dance badly or to laugh at bad jokes at all. Because without our weirdness, this world would be pretty damn boring. I’ll take A-cups over boring any day.