The Big Boob Debate

Boobs are like hair. Most women have some, but they are not necessarily content with what theirs looks like. The Julia Roberts of the world spend hundreds of dollars on flat irons and anti-frizz serums and hours upon hours trying to get their hair straight and shiny. While the Gwyneth Paltrows of the world have perm envy and secretly wish to be one of those free-spirited girls with hair flying wild in all directions. In the world of boobs, it's no different. D cuppers envy girls who can bounce around in spaghetti strap sundresses while B cuppers desperately yearn for Grand Canyon cleavage and tight tank tops.

Nope. Not mine. However...
with a good bra?

I inherited my mother's cup size...a perfect C, so I can't complain. I kind of see the C cup as a middle-of-the-road size, not too big and not too small. Perfectly manageable. Unfortunately, I did not inherit my mother's perfect-looking boobs. My left is bigger than my right. My nipples were flat until I breastfed so long they finally agreed to come out of hiding. And, sadly, National Geographic may one day offer the twins a cover shoot if they keep heading farther and farther south every winter. Don't know what Mom feeds hers, but apparently, mine are not coffee drinkers.

So, you see, not even a "perfect" C is perfectly content. We all want something a little bit more than what we have. Clearly, it's a losing battle women fight every day. And, it doesn't end at boobs and hair. That's just the beginning. We critique and over analyze and tear apart and put back together everything we are given no matter how perfect it may seem. We are our own worst enemies. We are, each and every one of us, a seasoned Vogue editor.

And, that is so very, very sad.

But what is the solution? How do women learn to accept what we are given and not yearn for something different?

My friend told me over the weekend she was thinking about getting breast implants at some point. I would wager she's a small B cup, but she's also a petite girl, and honestly, I couldn't imagine her with anything more than she has now. To me, she is perfect. Yet, you see, it really doesn't matter what she is to me. It only matters what she is to herself. No matter how many times I tell her she is beautiful; she will never believe it unless she starts to see it for herself. And, there is no magic mirror out there that can make us see ourselves in a better light. That particular magic is rather hard to come by, and it involves taking a most uncomfortable trip inside ourselves.

I know this to be true because I've taken that very trip, and trust me, it's not a weekend getaway. It's a trip to fat camp and back. It's like the worst roller coaster ride you've ever been on while totally hungover. However, it's a trip every woman has to take at some point in her life if she ever hopes to one day look in the mirror and feel sexy just the way she is. I used to look in the mirror and see nothing but what I needed to change about myself. Now, I look in the mirror, and for the most part, I see what I like about myself. And, if I don't like something I try to focus on the features I do like.

Now, don't think I've never thought about getting some help with the things I don't really like. I'm sure I would look a whole lot better with a set of new, perky boobs even if they are a bit plastic. However, I've had three c-sections and the thought of someone cutting into my body for the fourth time just does not appeal to me. And, seriously, I'm one of those freaks that would obsess about having some foreign material in my body, and I'd spend the next ten years waiting for a silicon spill. Not very conducive to a normal life, huh? I mean, I was the girl on the operating table who in the midst of an emergency c-section was less worried about the lack of anesthesia and more concerned with reminding the surgeons to count their gauze before stitching me back up.

However, for some girls, breast implants will allow them to look in the mirror and love what they see. And, who's to say this is a bad thing? I say, if you do it because you want it, then it's the right decision for you.

My husband met me when I was a C cup, and it wasn't until I had three kids over six years that he became the spoiled playmate of bountiful, post-baby breastfeeding boobs. I'm talking solid D cups here. Now that the baby factory has been shut down, my girls have returned to their pre-baby Cs, which I have sorely missed, let me tell you. My husband, however, is in D-withdrawal at the moment, and I think I hear about my shrinking bosom at least once per day, if not more. So, what would I do if one day he came to me and asked if I would consider breast implants?

I would say no.

I like my C cups, and I did not love my Ds. So, for me, breast implants would be the wrong decision because I would be doing it to please someone else, and that's just not cool.

But, for my friend a new pair of silicons may be the only way she will ever see how beautiful she really is. Sometimes you have to improve that one thing on your body that really bugs you before you can clearly see all the other beautiful features you've got going. Think of it as a prescription for clarity.

I just hope that before she takes the plunge and goes under the knife she takes that trip inward and really thinks about whether getting C cups will make her feel better about her body. Sometimes cuts run a little deeper than we originally thought. However, if she comes home and boobs are definitely the missing link, then I say do it. For you.