Milk Wagons

    When I was about twelve, I layered my three bras atop each other to make my chest look fuller. Having large, lady lumps upon the torso was considered a staple of being pretty and attractive and I wanted to be seen as that by, well, anybody at that point because I was shy and even a second of good attention was holy to me. This plan backfired in the sense that I ended up wishing for something that my adult self wants to be rid of. But at the time, I was happy faking it. Around that time, when my girls enlarged, I already felt some regret thanks to dance classes. I needed support, an extra layer of unpadded, form fitting sports bra to hold the bounce at bay.
    When I was in highschool, this one girl pulled my tank top up on more than one occasion because my cleavage was showing. One boy pointed out how he could really see my chesticles through the keyhole neckline of my shirt. I hardly wore an actual bra because I generally had dance classes after school and would have to change quickly, but even with a sports bra smooshing my external organ spheres down, they still made themselves known.
    The only time people didn’t and still don’t realize the true size of my ouch bouncers is due to me wearing oversized clothing. My baby-beverage holders can’t be pronounced that way, but then I need to dress in layers, which gets awfully hot in the summer months. Last summer there was a heatwave. The worst in my part of Canada to date. Big chest flops are a grievance to have when it’s hot. Gods, was the sweat underneath those swing weights unbearable. I had to try and keep them lifted or lay on my back so they flattened just to ease the flood that was assaulting the area beneath them. 
    Seeing myself in pictures, I always think I’m overweight. However, with a looser fitting shirt, it makes my body look wider since it drapes off my fat-n-nerve containers and that’s the part furthest out from my torso. Even in more fitted clothing I just look so heavy on my upper half because of the amount of space my squish nuggets take up. It really takes away from the rest of one’s figure when they have large blubber bags. I didn’t even know if my waist was small or not because I couldn’t really see it. I’m constantly disappointed in my body and appearance due to one specific area. My tops always look unflattering on me in my eyes, I look bulky in dresses, showing my shoulders and upper arms is something I try to avoid as much as I can. Not to mention I’m constantly afraid of having my dairy nibblers present in case that’s all someone looks at me for.
    My back always hurts, these things are heavy. I think a lot of people don’t truly realize the weight of these chest orbs especially when someone has a small band size and a large cup size. I’m a small person in a sense. I’m short. My bones aren’t slight or willowy but I am little in terms of vertical surface area. So, having a DDD cup size for a 32” band size is a lot for a person’s back. In fact, my lower back often seizes up, my shoulders are always sore, my neck constantly feels stiff. Whenever I do anything remotely physical, I get out of breath in mere moments and it’s most likely due to me not being able to use my diaphragm to its full extent. This is something I just found out and it makes a ton of sense when you take into account that I have taken dance for twenty years now and should have the stamina of a god.
    This is an odd post, I know, but I want people to recognize that there are a lot of humans with hefty mush bags that deal with that feature being grossly sexualized, having our pain and discomfort be written off as us being dramatic, feeling uncomfortable in our bodies as our bust is disproportionate to the rest of us. And to top things off, bras increase in price the bigger the size you need and sometimes your size is damn near impossible to find because of the band-cup ratio, so these abdomen weights are expensive as well. I want those of you blessed without the burdened sensation of two small cats resting upon your chest whilst you try to live your life to keep in mind that for the rest of us, it ain’t easy to live like this. Our spines need to find religion, our bras need therapy, and our minds need to find peace rather than war with our physicality. We have a lot to deal with just related to literal, surface level, bodily issues let alone everything else. So if one of us busty beings ever seem grumpy or annoyed or achy, don’t let your head go to “menstrual cycle” first because it’s probably the milk wagons.