I have large breasts. They're not small, or medium. They're
large. They're not on the small side of large or the large
side of medium. They're just large. And they're not the kind
that look large in a tight shirt or the kind that look large
in a loose shirt. They're just large.
Now, I've known this for a while, and yet people keep
reminding me, as if it's some sort of secret or revelation. Boys
in high school thought they were the first ones to discover it, so
they had no problem screaming down the hallway, "Hey you
know something, you got big tits!" Thanks.
In Europe, men on the street reminded me by staring directly
at my chest with tremendous smiling faces. Sometimes they'd
even say "hello." To my tits.
Because of my condition, the only place I can shop for bras and
swimsuits is the bra and swimsuit store where the average
employee is 68. So these ancient women take one look at me
and frown. Then I am not allowed to pick my bathing suits.
They have to be picked for me by these women because of my
large size. I am confined to the dressing room, shielded by a
curtain which these women have no problem flinging open with
no warning as I am shaking and shifting into the merchandise.
And isn't it funny that people who make bathing suits for large
breasted women don't seem to think that large breasted women
have any taste or style at all? Because each suit they bring me
is more hideous than the last one. I do not need a skirt on my
bathing suit, and I do not need a gigantic flower on the front to
hide any remnants of childbearing! I have a large chest!
