What size will my breasts have?
The other morning when getting dressed. My son, two and a half years old, watches me and asks, "Mom, what are you doing?"
"I put on my bra."
"Beeehaaa?" Astonished expression. "And what is that for?"
"He holds my breasts tight," I explain. "Are these both your breasts?"
"Yes, great, what?"
"Yes," says my son. And: "But they are big!"
Large? Well. For my son maybe. Officially, I have what belongs to the category of "smaller bosoms" - an 80 B. And I'm absolutely satisfied with it. Yes, I like my breasts very much. I think they are perfect for me, my body, my dress style. Since they arrived, we have a wonderful relationship.
Longingly they were expected, then, at eleven, twelve. Out of sheer impatience, my best friend and I even stuffed rolled-up socks into our sweaters, so we finally got some. When it really started, the tension increased: what would you look like? And how big would they be? Mine was just right. Not too much and not too little. By the way, like me, about 83.1 percent of German women are satisfied with their bust size. This was shown by a survey of the "Apotheken Umschau". Only 6.9 percent would like to tighten their breasts, only 2.9 percent think about an increase. Amazingly little. Especially when compared to the US, the country where most breast augmentations are still made. Latest trend: the "Breast of Breaks", triggered by the supermodel Miranda Kerr, who is said to have made after the end of their relationship with Orlando Bloom instead of a new hairstyle rather new breasts. Or Venezuela: There are even mannequins equipped with double-D bust - matching the prevailing ideal of beauty.
Quite so it should not be with a friend of mine. She had cup size A, was heartbroken for years, wanted more, saved a lot of money, and finally got herself under the knife. When she finally had no more pain but C-breasts weeks after surgery, she was happy. That would be out of the question for me. If I have the need for a fuller cleavage from time to time or a deep neckline of a top or dress demands it, just a push-up bra is put on. Okay, of course, there were moments of uncertainty and doubt: did the man I was in love with found my breasts good? I hope they were not too small for him? Finally, my breasts have made it without hesitation through several relationships until now in my marriage. Without C, D or even double-D.
"Big boobs get me right," confessed a good friend, whom I questioned unobtrusively with a few drinks. Pugs, bells, horns ... Men have many synonyms for breasts and usually very clear wishful thinking. Evolutionary biologists explain the men's bosom-obsession as follows: Big breasts signal desire, excitement and satisfaction. They are equated with fertility, meaning that the woman is potentially a good mother and could possibly feed enough children. Quite nonsense, because the size of the breast has nothing to do with the mammary glands. Two lactations have reliably coped with my average breasts. For months they were the round-the-clock milk depot, not always without problems: inflammation, congestion, all inclusive. With cooling quark wrap on nearly bursting balloons, I wondered, why, damn it, do we three really have to suffer like that, my breasts and me? Eventually, however, it was over with breast milk and nursing bras. Finally! My breasts were only mine again. Incidentally, my son understood that as well. "What are breasts for?" He asked the other day. Me: "There was milk in there for you when you were a little baby." He said, "Aha - but now the milk is in the kitchen."
