{"id":5202,"date":"2016-07-15T07:40:43","date_gmt":"2016-07-15T02:10:43","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/13.201.39.237\/?p=5202"},"modified":"2016-07-15T07:40:43","modified_gmt":"2016-07-15T02:10:43","slug":"women-worrying-about-breasts-sagging-boobs-health-puberty-bra","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/13.207.105.184\/?p=5202","title":{"rendered":"Too Small, Too Bouncy, Or Sagging: Can Women Ever Stop Worrying About Their Breasts?"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

P<\/span><\/p><\/div>

\nerhaps it was the combination of my unkempt hair, baggy T-shirt and an upper lip resembling a boy\u2019s pubescent <\/span>moustache<\/span><\/a> that prompted the kid on a bus to wave at me and shout out, \u201cBye uncle!\u201d Mortified and wounded, I figured that being inattentive toward my grooming needs was paying off quite badly. I flicked through the phone and called the beauty therapist that a neighbour had been raving about with the promise of \u201cShe\u2019s cheap, clean, and good!\u201d\u00a0<\/span>\n\nSapna came home with a well-equipped kit and a sweet smile. I relaxed in the <\/span>comfort<\/span><\/a> of my own space and let her do her thing. As she deftly slathered hot wax on my heavily forested limbs and ripped off strips with efficient consideration, I fantasised about the sexy outfits I could now prance about in.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nSuddenly I was interrupted by Sapna tugging at my bra. \u201cMadam, your strap is too loose. You\u2019re so young! You should wear it tighter so your <\/span>breasts<\/span><\/a> won\u2019t sag. Can I adjust it for you?\u201d I nodded in a daze, making a mental note to tell my neighbour that dispensing unsolicited advice was another one of Sapna\u2019s services.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nWhen she was done and I felt like the weight of the world had gone from my shoulders to boobs, I looked at her pleadingly, \u201cSeriously? This tight!\u201d She gave me a \u201cYou\u2019ll thank me later\u201d smile and continued.\u00a0<\/span>\n\n

We were all like Goldilocks stuck with the wrong bust sizes, pointlessly searching for our \u201cjust right\u201d.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\nAfter Sapna left, I showered up and moisturised. I stared at my reflection and cupped my breasts, turning them from side to side. Yes, the sag was evident and I cursed Sapna for reminding me of their futile battle against <\/span>gravity<\/span><\/a>. The stretch marks snaking across the fat spoke of the defeats endured over the years \u2013 the countless jiggles in underwired prisons, being tucked against their will into stifling minimisers and corsets, yanked at for months by a breast pump thanks to a stubborn baby\u2019s refusal to latch, the kinky shenanigans in the bedroom.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nWhen they first arrived, I didn\u2019t quite know how to handle the sudden <\/span>puberty<\/span><\/a>-induced baggage. The fat made its way to my chest, depositing layers and adding to my cup size. My mother took me to the department store and introduced me to the aisle displaying an assortment of cotton, satin and polyester brassieres. She picked the most horrendous cone-shaped ones; definitely her way of punishing me for the door-slamming tantrums.<\/span>\n\nAs my boobs grew ambitiously in high school into the 36D terrain, they catapulted me from a state of obscurity as a gawky girl with caterpillar-like eyebrows and hair perpetually drenched in coconut oil to suddenly being noticed. I grew self-conscious of the attention and developed a hunch to make them less conspicuous. Then there were some of my friends who grumbled of their own \u201c<\/span>mosquito<\/span><\/a> bites\u201d. We were all like Goldilocks stuck with the wrong bust sizes, pointlessly searching for our \u201cjust right\u201d.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nTransitioning from teen hood, the awkwardness slowly grew into pride and acceptance as I reined in my confidence. I began to love how womanly they made me feel. They went from bouncing about like a clumped mass at <\/span>sports<\/span><\/a> practice to helping me elicit a longing smile from a handsome stranger at a bar. My breasts helped me tick off a major milestone \u2013 believing I was sexy.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nThey\u2019ve been my partners in crime and time, enabling my evolving sensuality (if I may say so myself) and fulfilling their biological role of nourishing my child. I thought I was done worrying about them but it seems like they are adamant on staying relevant for longer.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nIn my 20s, I complained about how much growing up sucked. Now in my 30s, it\u2019s the growing old that\u2019s becoming a pain in the ass, boobs and other body parts that are slowly deflating as I inch towards more <\/span>wisdom<\/span><\/a>. I colour my greying hair, use a special loofah for cellulite, dab night cream to ease facial wrinkles and abstain from making a big hullabaloo about my birthday. There is a fervent urgency to prolong the aging process and preserve tenderness. But how much can you do to stop your breasts from sagging? There are breast lifting surgeries and firming and tightening creams, but for how long will you fret over \u201cthe twins\u201d? Sapna\u2019s words ring in my ears like a warning to make the most of what I\u2019ve got until it lasts.\u00a0<\/span>\n\n

It\u2019s a heartrending moment where comedy and reality mingle to feed us a sliver of raw female emotion that depicts how we can never stop worrying about our breasts.<\/p><\/blockquote> \n\nThere is an undeniable sadness in watching our once lush bodies wither. We spend half our lives cursing our anatomy and then the remaining not wanting it to forsake us. I see <\/span>women<\/span><\/a> ten years younger than me, flaunting suppleness and knowing the power they possess. I curse them under my breath and tell myself the lie that age is just a number.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\n\n\u201cThis is 40\u201d is one of the funniest yet real films I\u2019ve watched on what it takes to sustain a marriage and age together. There\u2019s a part where Debbie (Leslie Mann), a mother of two daughters and at the cusp of her 40th birthday, gapes at the voluptuous Desi (Megan Fox) bursting out of her <\/span>bra<\/span><\/a> in a changing room and declares, \u201cMy boobs are just gone. They didn\u2019t even say goodbye, they just left.\u201d It\u2019s a heartrending moment where comedy and reality mingle to feed us a sliver of raw female emotion that depicts how we can never stop worrying about our breasts.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nA couple of years ago I was perusing through an adult toy store in Canada with utmost curiosity. The door opened and a senior citizen entered in a wheelchair. She went straight to the counter and promptly requested for a tube of nipple tease gel. After <\/span>returning from the holiday, I went on to tell the \u201c<\/span>horny<\/span><\/a> grandma\u201d story to many people and laughed. But now I feel a deep admiration for her desire to enjoy her body irrespective of age or disability.<\/span>\n\nI\u2019m torn between letting my <\/span>boobs<\/span><\/a> be and torturing them with perpetually taut brassieres to buy more time. Do I choose perkiness over comfort? Do I master the art of walking upside down to see if that helps? Or do I simply cease to care?<\/span>\n\nIf I live long enough, someday I\u2019ll be a walking bag of wrinkled skin, swinging my shrunken tits around haphazardly. No one will care about whether or not I wear a bra or how low I bend to pick up something that has fallen. I will not be sexy or pretty, just an old lady with lots of <\/span>stories<\/span><\/a> to share with anyone willing to spare her the time. And hopefully with a tube of nipple lube hidden in her bedside drawer.<\/span>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When my breasts first arrived, I didn\u2019t quite know how to handle the sudden puberty-induced baggage. As they grew ambitiously in high school into the 36D terrain, I developed a hunch to make them less conspicuous. I thought I\u2019d stop worrying about them in my 30s, but now we are fighting gravity together.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":350,"featured_media":5203,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[170],"tags":[175,7785,8813,5734,5691,8814,8815,8418,1355,8816,735],"class_list":["post-5202","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-gender","tag-boobs","tag-bra","tag-breasts","tag-comfort","tag-horny","tag-leslie-mann","tag-megan-fox","tag-moustache","tag-puberty","tag-wisdom","tag-women"],"yoast_head":"\nToo Small, Too Bouncy, Or Sagging: Can Women Ever Stop Worrying About Their Breasts?<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"When my breasts first arrived, I didn\u2019t quite know how to handle the sudden puberty-induced baggage. 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