Unpopular Opinion: Being part of the ‘Itty Bitty Titty Committee’ is okay!

Breasts. Boobs. Tits. Diddies. Lady Lumps. Funbags. Tattybojangles. Maracas. Bits and pieces. Janglers. Call them what you will, they’re part of being a woman. They come in all shapes and sizes, and every person born female will undoubtedly develop them. Without a doubt, breasts are seen as a part of femininity. Which is why I find it a little bit unusual that among men, they are such a big deal- much to many a woman’s dismay.

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard some stupid guy yell “YOU HAVE NO TITS!” at me, either at school or on a night out, and it’s not fun. It’s embarrassing, and it brings up the question: ‘why is having small boobs such a bad thing?’

Let’s take a step back. When I was about 10 years old, I noticed something. My previously ironing board-flat chest had been replaced with two small, boobesque bumps. And I was so embarrassed. Realistically, the reason anything was there was because, at that age, I was a bit on the chubby side (and when I say a bit, I mean a LOT)- so it wasn’t really boobs then, it was just ‘fat’. But it sparked a special conversation with my mammy about “changes” (ewww!) and bras and the possibility of me having a bra. At first, I thought this was kind of cool, and I remember my fabulous, sparkly, gem-embellished, Dunnes stores MASTERPIECE of a bra, which I wore for about 10 minutes before thinking “This is really scary and weird and what IS this torture device?!” I then promptly hid the bra at the back of my drawer, never to be seen again.

Around the same time, I started an “Anti-Bra Club” with my cousin. She was a little bit younger than me, but still old enough to understand the EVIL of the bra. We held meetings to talk about how weird bras were, and took an oath never to wear them. We were clearly so damn cool.

When I went to high school, though, everything changed- the Anti-Bra Club was abolished because I was now a full-time wearer of the upper decker flopper stopper. But now, I had a growing concern (literally). My boobs were practically non-existent compared to the other girls in my year. And that didn’t change either. While everyone else’s grew bigger, I was consistently “lacking”, and it made me miserable! In my friend group everyone else was a D-cup or bigger, and much to my dismay, I was regularly reminded that “A-is-for-Amber”.

I’ve rambled on now for a while about my lack of chesticles, but that’s not where I’m going with this post. There is so much pressure on women to look a certain way, to have a certain figure- and part of this image is to have large breasts. We see it so often in the media, too. Take Katy Perry for example- talented, sweet and gorgeous- but all people seem to care about is the fact she has gigantic bazoongas. When the beautiful Keira Knightley recently posed topless, she did it to show women that she was actually smaller than most advertisers and photographers had photoshopped her to be. I felt like it was a really proud, rock-on-sister kind of moment. But then the critics came along- close-minded, insensitive idiots with insults like “boy tits” and “she doesn’t have boobs”. Even girls were saying things like “I’d be ashamed if that was me”. “She doesn’t look like a woman”. OUCH.

My inspiration for this post was the idea that a woman having small breasts doesn’t make her any less of a woman, and we should stop putting emphasis on the importance of having huge chumbawumbas. I’m 19, somewhere between 32A and B, and I don’t need someone making me feel as though I’m any less feminine because “they’re only wee” (direct quote from my actual life, by the way). I still feel just as girly and as
much of a woman as any girl whose baps slap her in the face every time she runs for the bus.

Would I prefer to have my dinglebobbers double in size? Absolutely. Do I get jealous of girl with righteous racks? Sometimes. But I accept my funbag fate, and I embrace it. At 5ft 1, I think I’d look pretty silly with a huge chest. Small boobs don’t get saggy, either. And I can get away with not wearing a bra more often than the average girl, which is friggin’ awesome.

In the past, I’ve been hard on myself in more ways than one. I’ve been scared to get changed in front of my friends, and I’ve had major reservations about letting boyfriends meet the ladies, for fear that they’d laugh at me of make some kind of stupid “where are they?” joke. But no one’s ever said that, or anything like that, because it turns out boobs aren’t THAT important (and none of said boob-viewers have been complete bum-heads). So maybe we (we with the wee ones) are a bigger part of the problem than we’d
expect. Are we just comparing ourselves to each other too much?

In conclusion, what I’m trying to say is that there’s more to life than colossal cantaloupes. Us ladies come in different shapes and sizes, and the only thing that matters is not what’s hanging off your chest. If I’d spent less time worrying and comparing myself to other girls, I’d have saved myself a lot of bother. So ladies, whatever size your headlamps are, size does NOT matter, unless you’re talking about your heart. Feeling happy within yourself, loving each other and remaining feisty and fabulous is what it’s all about. Be more supportive to your fellow sisters than the best bra ever could. From my teeny tattybojangles and I, au revoir!

(PS- Hope you all appreciated the quantitty of synonyms and puns- it was the breast fun I’ve had in a while!)

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6 Comments Add yours

  1. Wilson says:

    This was a legitimately funny post.

    1. ambieeeeee says:

      You’ve literally made my day- glad you enjoyed and thank you 😀

  2. Wilson says:

    Tattybojangles, copyright it soon cause im stealing it.

  3. Wilson says:

    And dinglebobbers.

    1. ambieeeeee says:

      I’m afraid tattybojangles is the fine work of Russell Howard (British comedian)! But still, boob synonyms are easily the best. 🙂

      1. Wilson says:

        Well yes they are and you brilliantly used them in their entirety.

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