I never understood the fuss about breasts till I turned 18. I think it was only then that I discovered that the chesticles I bore from puberty could actually be assets.
In Singapore, having big boobs is not exactly a big deal. We live in a nation where svelte is in, and coming from a neighbourhood school, you notice that the "xiao mei mei" (little girl) look was what really pulled the boys in. Something about their protective instincts kicking in perhaps?
As a teen, I found it hard to find any advantages of a bra cup over size C. Aside from battling body odour, pimples and period pain, I had to fight boob sweat and learn slowly that I just don't fit into the everyday Triumph or Sloggi brands.
School uniforms were a pain too. Shaped in an unmercifully unsexy way, it meant that I either had to purchase a sack that was two sizes too big, or struggle with multiple safety pins to prevent buttons from popping off.
PE (Physical Education) classes were a new level of hell. Putting aside the fact that I'm terribly unfit, imagine running 2.4km while holding two swaying bags of fat close, in an attempt to keep them from hitting you in the chin. Not easy.
You'd think becoming an adult would have settled my adolescent insecurities, but nooo... growing older, I realised having big breasts led to bigger problems. Oh, the cons were endless...
Singapore’s humidity led to a constant river of sweat between my girls, resulting in nasty eczema that I eventually learned to tame with copious dustings of baby powder.
Sleeping on my back is a nightmare because they’d just pool to the sides of my body. I'd look, and feel, ridiculous. Sleeping on my side is no better — the top one flops on the other. (On that note, there is a mini-bolster you can purchase to separate your puppies here.)
Shopping for an over-the-shoulder boulder holder is close to impossible. The cute ones led to spillage and left ugly lines as they cut into your breasts, and the ones that fit came only in dowdy beige and left you feeling as sexy as, well, grandma. Luckily I found two go-tos – Marks & Spencer and La Senza.
Your clothing options are limited. Bralettes, crop tops and button-up tops are rarely an option for me. Stick-on bras and backless tops are equally hopeless.
At chalets and slumber parties, my girlfriends would hang loose and go bra-free under their sleep shirts. An attempt to do the same would mean I'd be hugging my chest the entire night and praying that it would be too dark to see outline of my pointy bits.
There are many other cons to add to the list, food dropping into the valley of no return, never being able to properly reach across a mahjong table for a tile cause your boobs are in the way (the struggle is real), having to wear multiple sports bras to the gym...like I said, endless.
One could argue that big breasts are sexy, I mean, aren't they the reason behind thriving push-up bra sales and why girls subject their girls to painful breast-implant surgery?
But sorry to disappoint you, guys, multiple surveys have concluded that big breasts are out. The once-enviable "Baywatch Babe" look is now considered dated. Mashable and Pornhub came together to run an analysis on Pornhub's visitors, and it was discovered that the term “breast” only made up 1.5 per cent of daily searches. If that's not the sign of flagging interest, I don't know what is.
I've also conducted a survey with a couple of my friends. Over a few no-holds-barred conversations, we discussed the general opinion of Asian men on oversized funbags, and it was heartily agreed that it wasn't so much the size of them that mattered, but the proportion of girl to boob. That elusive S-line that Koreans so coveted was what attracted my male friends.
"But, what if the girl has huge boobs and she's wearing a low-cut top. You'll still look right?" I asked.
My friend stared at me straight in the eye and said, "If I were wearing FBT shorts, and my ball sack was hanging out. Would you look?"
Case closed. How could I argue with a statement like that?
Of course, my friend is just one among many men, and there are many who definitely find themselves attracted to busty women.
I discovered this breed during my clubbing years.
I spent my late teens and early 20s in a plethora of strategically cut tops and dresses, heels that looked like hooves, and Wednesday nights gyrating through Clarke Quay's finest establishments.
It was a phase I was going through, in which I was amused by the attention my tatas brought and the hilarious fascination some guys had with them.
It ended after a particularly revolting encounter at the long-gone Rebel. A lanky lad ambled up towards my friends and I, his unkempt figure tottering over me. He let out an alcohol-laced breath towards us before whimpering, "I like your boobs." Then he promptly spilled his drink down my top and attempted to clean me up with his hands.
Life experiences, eh.
As I grew older, I learnt to live with my boobs. Our once-volatile love-hate relationship has since mellowed into understanding and appreciation.
They make a great shelf, prevent my stomach from getting sunburnt and look awesome in empire-cut tops. Rather than apple, I'd say they've also given me a slight hour-glass figure.
I've come to realise that size honestly doesn't matter. When you're nearing your 30s, you learn to work with what you've got and realise it's all about confidence.
Now pardon me as I go fluff my ladies, powder the valley and get them ready for a night out in town.
For more living, head here. Or check out Pan Ling Ling: My Fight With Breast Cancer Helped My Dad Stay Strong Through His Chemo and 7 Bras That Will Work For The Entire Week.