Loving My Breasts at 50
When her bust size increased after menopause, Maryanne finally got the lift she always wanted.
Back in the 1970s, I was one of those kids with a hot mom. My mom looked exactly like actress/singer/dancer/sex symbol Joey Heatherton – with a rockin’ body to match. Kids in the school yard – boys and girls alike – looked at her with gaga eyes. And then when I was in high school, boys commented that my mother “should be in Playboy.”
My mom was stunning and I dreamed of growing up to look just like her. But that didn’t happen. I was never as pretty as she was and I got cheated in the breast department too.
When I was nine, my breasts started to grow. I was thrilled, thinking I was well on my way to looking like my Mom Almighty. And let me tell you, by 12, I was pretty developed – so much so that kids started rumors that I stuffed my bra. Boy, did this secretly please me!
And then, that was that. They stopped growing. By 18, I was a mere B-cup — and I felt cheated.
I’ll never forget listening to a recording of The Sex Pistols on a radio talk show. A female fan called in and tried to ask a reasonable music related question but all they could say to her was, “Do you got big tits?” Over and over, whenever she tried to talk, you’d hear that cockney accent, “You got big tits?”
When she finally said no, one of the Pistols said, “If you ain’t got big tits, we don’t like you then.” And you could hear the phone slam down.
I was crushed! My punk rock idols would hate me, I thought to myself.
But as the eternal optimist, I rejoiced that my breasts stood up without a bra. Mind you, I didn’t figure that out on my own, it was a dress maker that pointed it out to me. “You are up-busted,” she said, noting that I didn’t need a bra as I was being fitted for an outfit for a wedding.
From that moment on, I confidently told my mom I had “perfect tits.” And I lived up to my declaration of “perfect tits” by going braless most of my adult life. It’s said that if you believe in something enough, it will come true, so I believed in my boobs and it worked – others started believing in my breasts too. When a girlfriend told me she once saw me walking down the street and she admired how good I looked braless, I thought that was the best compliment I’d ever received. I later did some art modeling and another girlfriend called my breasts “pretty,” when I showed her the photos.
When I was in my late 30s, I went on the raw food diet and lost a lot of weight. I got very thin, and of course, my breasts got smaller too. But something miraculous happened when I went off the diet a few years later; I slowly gained weight back and it all went right to my chest. At age 48, I was still a size four, but now had to buy C-cup bras. Friends who haven’t seen me in awhile were asking if I had a boob job!
It made no sense to me why my breasts got bigger and the rest of me didn’t (I still had my flat stomach), but then I started hearing stories about how women in their peri-menopausal years and menopause years develop larger breasts. According to ehow.com, several lingerie shop owners participated in a survey and reported that customers over 50 noted an increase in bust size. In fact 65 to 80 percent of the customers said their breast size increased after menopause – some up to two full cup sizes. And Europe.obgyn.net reported that 30 percent of requests for breast reduction are made by post menopausal women.
Well — there won’t be a breast reduction here. I am very happy with my larger breasts. I love having cleavage. I enjoy how my “girls” seem to give my body more balance in general, as I’ve always had a well endowed butt. My bathing suit tops fill out nicer. I even feel sexy in winter pajamas. And I can look tired as all hell but my great breasts will still be my great breasts. Ah, life is good!
So at age 50, it’s safe to say I – along with many other women, according to statistics — not only get the wisdom that comes with age, but the booby prize too!
Does breast size matter to you?