Big Ole Naturals

Image Courtesy: Tarzhanova/Getty Images

If you can’t tell–this is going to be about boobs… more specifically, mine. 

Boobs; one of the most mysterious wonders of the world. How they work, what they mean and why we are so simultaneously interested and disinterested in them all at once. 

Now, I’ve officially written the word "boobs" three times and I wouldn't be even the slightest bit surprised if some of you are looking for a reason to keep reading. Sadly for some, I am not here to metaphorically flash you through my writing, I'm just here to be honest.

Naturally large boobs are a handful; literally. 

Back in Elementary school, I physically matured visibly quicker than the other girls. Acne bubbling on my face while my new underwire bra sliced into my ribcage. But unlike some young girls getting the marks of their “womanhood”, I was mortified. 

Suddenly I was extremely aware of how my body looked. At 12 years old, I had convinced myself that my boobs now entered a room before I did like some dramatized misogynistic cartoon. 

That, of course, was not true…then. 

As I got older, I attempted to tap into my pre-teen style. With group mall trips to Pacsun and Hollister, I quickly realized these popular clothing brands were not built for my body type. Specifically my boobs. 

A top that fit around my arms would still somehow be too small around my chest, showing my embarrassingly supportive bra. A top that miraculously fit my chest suddenly didn't fit my arms. One quick trip to the mall turned into hours of going in and out of dressing rooms trying not to have a panic attack thanks to hating the way that I looked. 

Eventually, I entered a phase where I refused to shop in-person altogether, saving my shameful stares and never ending tears for the comfort of my bedroom as I tried on the same top in three different sizes just to inevitably return them all. 

I spent countless hours researching comfortable bras for my rapidly growing cup size, bras that minimized the muffin-tops, and shirts and tops that didn't make me feel like a total boob monster. 

I remember reading articles on how to style your boobs so they are less noticeable and what necklines you should avoid in fear of being made to feel uglier than you already do. It was pure nonsense for a pre-teen to be consuming.

But it was so hard. Amidst the big boobie bloggers and “size friendly” fashion, there was so much noise. Social media was a void of thin women rocking their mysteriously perky big boobs and making it look classy. Or on the flip side, midsize and plus size women who were proud tiny titty community members. Not to mention the constantly changing beauty standards that gave a sixteen-year-old me whiplash. It was a rough sea to swim in. 

All I can say is thank god I had these built in floatation devices.

But seriously, like every normal growing woman, my weight fluctuates. But regardless of how athletic or non-athletic or how good or bad at eating regular meals I was (oops, that's another topic), the boobs stayed pretty consistent. 

Younger me felt so hopeless–with her boob induced neck pain, and painfully un-sexy bras. So much so that one day, while researching ways to hide your ladies, she learned you can surgically size them down entirely. 

I remember thinking “hallelujah!” I had found the holy grail answer. 

This was something I wanted so badly so early on in my life that my sympathetic parents were quick to support the idea of speaking to a doctor about what the steps would entail when I was finally old enough. 

When people would ask me what I wanted when I grew up I might as well just have been honest and said “smaller boobs”. 

But alas, with a growing appreciation for my melons as I got older, and a major fear of the procedure itself, that dream fizzled out. 

Reflecting on it now does make me feel sad for little me. She was so unhappy and so confused that she really thought permanently and cosmetically altering herself out of shame would solve the problem that she couldn't find the answer to. 

Now, being that I was a feminist straight out of the womb blessed with boobs to spare, I feel pretty strongly about the need for more diverse representation for women. And no, I do not mean more varieties of women showing you where you can get filler or what  “vitamins” you can take that make you glued to a toilet for six hours.

Female anatomy has been worshiped for centuries–but of course I get thrown into the timeline where the only worship that gets done (if you can even call it that) is by incels on the internet or pathetic men with nothing better to do. 

We literally create life and yet so many of us waste our own trying to figure out how we can become the next unattainable standard. 

I am finally in my twenties and I am so happy to report that I love my boobs. I love that they make me feel sexy, feminine, empowered; and yeah, I love that they could totally knock someone out if I tried hard enough. 

Of course, I do wish I could go back in time and tell younger me that she’s perfect, no matter how her body changes, what beauty trends she sees or how many Pacsun tops she accidentally rips while trying on.

Now no, I have not cracked the sticky bra code and yes I have seen, and fallen, for the TikTok shop ads.

But at this point in my life, it really doesn't matter. If you can’t wear a cute top without fear of a nip slip or looking like a saggy demon, then that trendy sweat shop made top just isn't meant for you. Bring back embracing what makes you feel beautiful and sexy, not what is going to hide you the best or make you feel more parallel with whatever beauty trend is the most current.

Because whether you've got mosquito bites or big ole naturals, there is, without a doubt, someone who thinks your grass is a hell of a lot greener. 

Strike out,

Madeline Dertouzos

Boca Raton

Madeline Dertouzos is a content writer for Strike Magazine Boca. She’s an extroverted introvert who will probably ask to see your birth chart within a few minutes of meeting you. If she's not buying another book she doesn't need or drinking her third coffee of the day, she is definitely with her cat Olive (just ask, she will show you pictures). You can reach her at dertouzosmadeline@gmail.com or on Instagram @madelinedertouzos.