I do—32Cs. It's just I have such clavicle issues, I don't like them on show. This was something Alexa Chung said in a interview with British Vogue that not only stuck with me throughout my twenties, but confirmed in some small way that how I was dressing at the time hiding my own 34C boobs was, in fact, considered chic. For years I have tried to compress my chest usually with no-wire triangle bras that flatten rather than give liftor hide my breasts in oversized oxford shirts, loose-fitting cashmere sweaters, and baggy white T-shirts tucked into mini skirts or jeans.
At the same time as a member of the ittie bittie tittie committee, my boobs play a very small role in my day after day life. I usually forget that they are even there. The only age I even notice their existence is in the shower. Sure, I aspiration they were bigger at times.
Designed for as long as I can bear in mind, my boobs have been an announce. I was the first one all the rage my class to shop for a training bra because it hurt en route for run in gym class. I ability to remember the first time I took a basketball to my chest during a championship game. And I remember so as to during the same game, I missed a free throw because my appendage hit my boobs. A lot. Designed for a lot of women, they essentially are anything but fun.