High School Big Boobs

High School Big Boobs
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By Felicia Sabartinelli Published: Apr 7, 2016
People would suggest I get a boob job. But as tempting as it was, I knew I had to love me the way I was.
I’m Felicia Sabartinelli, Colorado actress, artist and writer. You can call me ‘Fe’ but please don’t call me ‘Bye, Felicia’. In my spare time, I enjoy writing my online poetry series, Bedside Photos. I also like brunette men and breakfast foods. Learn more about me @ www.feliciasabartinelli.com
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Today, I know that even if my chest had never grown, I would be alright with it.
My great aunt bought me my first bra when I was 11. She gave it to me on my birthday, when I definitely didn't need a bra. All I wanted was my very own set of breasts. I think I believed that a bra would magically make my boobs suddenly appear – and that I would finally be a woman. That definitely did not happen.
I barely fit an A-cup in high school. I used to wish on every star I saw in the sky that I would be blessed with an ample chest, that I could fill out a shirt without two spare pieces of fabric hanging over where my breasts were meant to be. I wanted boobs so badly that I started referring to them as my "hope chest," because I thought if I hoped hard enough they would suddenly just blossom.
While in high school, I realized quickly how flat I was in comparison to my girlfriends. Also, I couldn't escape the pressure I felt from seeing other teenage girls in magazines, TV shows and movies. I sure as hell didn't look like most of them . I looked much younger – especially physically. Every time I complained, my grandma would remind me, "Mine never came in until I was in my 30s." Well, her chest was huge, so I had to have hope, right?
As time went on, I remained confident but still a bit envious, feeling left out whenever my friends were having conversations that I couldn't be a part of. They'd say things like, "I can't run, it huuuurts !" I wanted to know that feeling! (It also sounded like a great excuse to get out of gym). Even complaints like, "I can't sleep on my stomach anymore…" and "He wouldn't stop staring at my boobs" made me – you guessed it – want boobs.
I would make jokes about my flat chest, putting balloons up my shirt during sleepovers to make my friends laugh. I figured I should make fun of myself, rather than feeling sorry about something that I had literally no control over.
But by the time I started college, I was actively trying to come to terms with my little knockers. I learned how to accentuate my other physical attributes. I had nice eyes and hair, and I had a great butt – but I still wished I had boobs.
Sometimes, people would suggest I get a boob job. There was this idea that surgery would 'complete' my body somehow. That I would be 'sexier' or more 'womanly.' But as tempting as it was, I knew I had to love me the way I was. Even though I wanted boobs so badly, I just never saw that as an option for me.
So, I learned to take all the confidence I had and found a way to be fully happy with my body. I decided to wear cute tops confidently. I didn't stress about wearing padded bras. In fact, sometimes I didn't even wear a bra! And then something great started to happen: I started to forget all about not having boobs. It was no longer an issue.
Then one day, or gradually, things changed. It seemed to just happen. I noticed little gaps between the buttons of my button-up shirts. I noticed a nice shadow effect happening at the top of my chest, a rounding out – something I had never seen before. Then I noticed that they were jiggling a little as I walked. I yelled to my roommate, "OMG, They jiggle! They jiggle while I jump!"
They continued to grow. It wasn't really attributed to weight gain, either. I started out as a 32A and suddenly was a 32B. And eventually, after a few years, I became a C-cup.
Suddenly, I knew the feeling when guys stared at my chest – and, yes, it quickly became annoying. Since I had glorified boobs for so long, I also started to notice that having them wasn't very different at all.
Sure, having a body part that society glorifies is fun for a while, but then you start to realize that it doesn't really fix or change anything. Today, I know that even if my chest had never grown, I would be alright with it.
It's a beautiful thing to have experienced both sides, to completely understand what it's like to have and have not. Not once did I ever consider plastic surgery. I never wore heavily padded bras. Even if I never had that late growth spurt, I think I would be just as confident today.
And you know what else I realized? It never mattered how flat or full my chest was. I should have never relied on something so insignificant to make me feel like 'more' or 'less' of a woman. It never provided me more or less opportunities. It didn't make me any more or less attractive. It didn't make me more or less capable.
You are damn sexy – no matter what size breasts you have. If you want plastic surgery, go for it. If you prefer to rock your chest au natural, at any size, go for it. You do you. The rest will always fall into place.
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There was a time when I really loved my boobs. In high school, I wore a C cup, and my breasts filled out my triangle bikini tops and form-fitting V-neck shirts perfectly.

As the years passed, my breasts continued to grow. Eventually, I was a DD cup. Cute swimsuits and tops were difficult to come by, and I felt lucky to find a simple underwire bra that supported my chest well. I watched in envy as friends wore tops and dresses I could not. Because of societal standards, I felt like my big boobs could never look good in a strapless top. Like so many others, I was taught that large breasts should be covered and supported behind clothes.

But recently I started to wonder: Just because my breasts were not small and perfectly perky didn't mean I was literally barred from going braless , right?

I'm a writer, and after I wrote an article about a woman who used her social media account to make the point that saggy breasts are natural and normal, I decided it was time to face my boobs. What would happen if I threw my bras to the wind and went about my day with my natural boobs freed from bras and loose tops?

I knew this experiment would push my comfort levels with my body to the edge, but that's exactly why I wanted to do it. If I could go five days without a bra, I thought, the next time I wanted to wear a cute dress or top without one, I wouldn't feel the same hesitation I normally do.

My parents were visiting today for brunch, so I decided to begin to launch my foray into bralessness with a fire-engine red, high-neck body suit, high-waist black jeans, and a denim jacket over top (because I was not trying to flash my nipples in a restaurant at 9 a.m.).

I'm no stranger to bodysuits: They're a go-to choice for a night out with friends. But I'd never considered wearing one on an average day, especially without a bra. Once I had my outfit on though, it felt incredibly freeing to walk down the street this way. No one seemed to notice my lack of bra, and soon I forgot about it too.

In the evening, I switched to another bodysuit for a night out with friends. This one was striped and off the shoulder. When I first put it on, I could feel my worst big boob-related fear bubbling up: sagginess. Since this bodysuit didn't feature thick straps like my others, I didn't have the usual support I'm used to, and it felt so weird.

I reminded myself that natural-looking breasts are totally normal, gave myself a quick pep talk in the mirror, and decided to stick with my outfit choice. Once I arrived at the party, I confided in a friend about my experiment. "That's awesome!" she told me. She also said that she didn't even notice my lack of bra. Whether she was telling the truth or not, I felt way better about my decision.

After yesterday's success, I decided to try something bolder. Instead of wearing a tight bodysuit that really strapped my breasts in place, I opted for a flowy V-neck spaghetti-strap top under a cardigan. The total lack of support made it feel like my boobs were flapping in the wind. The entire time I walked down the street, I kept adjusting my jacket to make sure I wasn't exposing myself to the public. Is this more of a hassle than wearing an actual bra ? I thought to myself.

At dinner, I dropped my fork and leaned down to pick it up. When I sat back up, I remembered I was braless and scrambled to readjust my top. Neither of my friends seemed to notice I was without bra.

It was nice to not have bra straps tugging at my neck and shoulders or peeking out under the thin straps of my top. And when I got home, I didn't feel the need to rip off my shirt and bra immediately because…I wasn't wearing one. Score.

I dreaded Day 3's arrival for a couple of reasons. First, I planned to try working out without a bra. Any woman with larger-than-average breasts knows any type of physical activity requires a supportive, well-fitting bra for comfort. I'd spent years of my life (yes, years ) searching for the right sports bra for my chest. So going without a bra at all scared the crap out of me.

But I signed up for a 6:30 a.m. cycling class and headed to my local gym. I threw on the tightest workout crop top I owned and prayed to the boob gods that all would be fine. And miraculously, it worked.

I felt amazingly free during my class because I didn't feel the need to adjust my top once, like I usually do with my bras. Plus, thanks to the design of my chosen workout top, my breasts felt supported enough to make it through the medium-impact class. I don't think taking a Zumba class or doing HIIT would have worked for this experiment, but I'm happy to know I can do select workouts without needing underwire.

After class, I showered and got ready for the second most dreaded part of the week: going to work braless. As a well-endowed woman, I never imagined entering corporate America without a bra on. Still, I came up with a strategic outfit that I hoped would hide my bralessness while also looking professional.

I chose a tight, high-neck T-shirt with colored horizontal stripes and wore it underneath a bomber jacket to hide any potential nipple-erection scenarios. I paired it with flared jeans and loafers to dress up the look a little and headed to the office.

The first thing I noticed was that my typical boob sweat was drastically minimized. After a whirlwind commute, I usually work up a bit of a sweat and can feel it puddling in the area between my breast and the underwire (TMI, but someone had say it). With my braless getup, though, I had almost no boob sweat. Paired with the bomber jacket, co-workers didn't seem to even notice I was going braless for the week.

I woke up feeling really excited for another day freed from my bra. I chose a black bodysuit with a flowy maxi skirt and a leather jacket over top (because once again, cold nipples). I noticed my confidence was up all day as I was becoming more accustomed to going braless.

Existing in the world without a bra is so comfortable. I didn't have to adjust digging straps, account for boob sweat, or deal with any other annoying bra-related struggles, which made me forget at times I even had boobs. Once I got past my fear of how I looked to others and found outfits that fit my style and comfort level, everything was, well, great.

On the final day of my going braless experiment, I felt a little sad. I wasn't ready to reintroduce my boobs to their wire cage. I pulled out my red bodysuit from Day 1 and paired it with tailored, cropped pants and a blazer for a professional take. When I looked in the mirror, I felt like I could go into a presentation or important meeting and totally rock it despite not wearing a bra.

When I got home, I took off all of my work clothes except with red bodysuit. Instead, I wore it as I cooked dinner, watched television, and prepared for the next day. I'm going to miss this , I thought. But then I remembered: I could go braless whenever I want because they're my breasts—and I can dress them in whatever I please.

After five no-bra days, it's safe to say my experiment definitely worked. I now feel more confident rocking tops that society would normally tell big-chested women they should never wear. I also feel more connected to my body. Without a bra to strap my breasts down, I felt more of the natural movement of my chest.

On the other hand, going braless also made me forget about my boobs entirely at times—a luxury I'd never experienced before. Going about your day without constantly thinking about what your chest looks like to others or how uncomfortable your bra is making you feel means you have more time to worry about the things that matter.

While I haven't tossed my bras in the garbage, I will continue going braless more often than I did before this experiment—to work, to the gym , anywhere I feel like going. The comfort is unparalleled, and it's helped me confront and move past insecurities about my body.

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