Regular readers (or let's be realistic -- even occasional readers) have likely noticed that I talk about my boobs fairly often. I'm not entirely sure if other chestically-endowed women felt like they had to make the same decision I did at some point in their life, but I can't imagine I'm completely alone.
I can't exactly remember when it happened. I've always had a big rack, but The Girls had a bit of a growth spurt probably 12 years ago. Around that time or maybe even a bit before, I started actually dressing in clothes that weren't super big and baggy. In other words, I started dressing like a grown woman. The combination brought my tits to the forefront, as it were. That's when I started getting considerably more unwanted and inappropriate attention.
At that point, I felt like I had a decision to make: Go back to hiding, slouching and feeling kind of ashamed of my body or embrace my gift from Mother Nature and flaunt what she gave me without shame. Obviously, I chose the latter.
Most of the time I feel like I made the correct decision. But there are definitely times I second-guess myself. When the boss stares at my chest when he's talking to me? That's one of them. When I'm out and about and I can tell random people are staring at my chest and possibly even talking about me? Yeah, that's another.
For whatever reason, a disproportionate number of these uncomfortable moments happen when I'm home. Everyone's drunk and there's a lull in the conversation and someone says, "You have really big tits." Yeah, thanks for the newsflash, Captain Obvious. And there's the groping. That's always fun.
Last night, I was at a surprise birthday party for my friend's husband. There were a lot of people there I didn't recognize and I felt like I got a several major once-overs when I braved the crowd of dudes in the garage to get a beer. But the birthday boy's brother was the worst. He was shitty drunk when I got there around 4:30, and he made a pretty quick beeline to me. He kept asking who I was and how I was related to my friend. For whatever reason (alcoholism?), he didn't remember me being around for a million different things. I told him several times that I've known his sister-in-law since we were babies. Our parents are best friends. Dude, when your brother married this girl? I was a bridesmaid and I sang.
The stupid questions and the personal-space-invading were bad enough. But busting out loud enough for everyone to hear with "Are those real?" in a room full of people and kids? That's just ... gross. I pretended I didn't hear. What I wouldn't have given for there to have not been a time out and thus a commercial during the Marquette-Stanford game. The silence in the room was pretty fucking loud after that question.
I still feel kinda gross about it today. I don't really understand why most of the time I can handle those inappropriate comments without a second thought (or I can even find them funny), but every now and again I just feel really, really icky. Oh well. I'll get over it.