As the fourth anniversary of my new breasts fast approaches, I realised I’d never actually written about them and the whole experience. Which, as a writer, is weird.
Getting a boob job and ‘having fake tits’ has many complexities that come with it (or them), so I thought I’d break it down and go through the entire process and answer all the questions EVERYONE has regarding the procedure, in what will basically be referred to as my series of tit queries.
Let’s kick things off with the first question I get…
Why did I get a boob job?
I always wanted them as a kid…
Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted boobs. I LOVED boobs from a very young age and couldn’t wait until I got some. I remember getting my first batch of little pubes and was so excited because I thought that this sign of puberty meant little nublets would be incoming too. A few of the girls in my Year 6 class had small boobs and I was SO jealous that they got proper bras while I was still stuck in crop tops (which, to be fair were also highly unnecessary given I was a lanky 11-year-old and had only nipples on bone at this point).
I insisted on a bra so my mum let me have one of those ‘beginner bras’ (bless her) and I was so excited at a slumber party to take off my shirt and show everyone my bra, feeling like such a grown-up. This was quickly disparaged by a lurking adult who yelled at us from another room that we were ‘too young for such nonsense’.
I can’t remember exactly when I got baby boobs in early high-school years, but they sure weren’t anything to write home about. We had a strict private school uniform, so under my pleated, plaid dress each and every day, I would begin the 10-minute affair of packing my bra with socks and multiple tissues to get a ‘realistic’ effect.
Side note… Watch make up artist Monica Gingold share her genius tips for finding where your contour should go, and how to apply it. Post continues after video.
I don’t know why I was obsessed with having boobs from such a young age, no one else I knew cared so much or padded their bra. My best friend was sporty and used to rock her baby boobies with the confidence of someone far older than her young years – a trait I know she’ll pass onto her own children and hopefully mine. I was always very interested in pop-culture as a youth, so maybe it was my obsession with celebrity and countless hours pouring over glossy magazines that subconsciously embedded the idea of the stereotypical ‘perfect’ female’? Or maybe it was because my mum and aunties and grandmas had boobs? Or maybe it was a sexual thing? I have no idea – but I do know that I’d wanted boobies since I was a wee lass.
And as an adult…
As an adult at university, I remember talking about how one day I would get my boobs done. Not to everyone but I used to joke about it to close friends and boyfriends and many people would scoff at me.
