Life as a 40DDDDDDDDDDD
Glo's writer reveals what it's really like to have super-sized breasts.
- Andreas Kuehn/Getty Images
"We must, we must,
We must develop our bust.
The bigger the better,
The tighter the sweater,
The boys are depending on us!"
I never chanted this particular schoolyard rhyme, as if I were somehow all too aware of its consequences. Nonetheless, the Breast Fairy waved her wand over my preteen body, and voilà!
By sixth grade, I wore an A-cup bra (Kate Moss is a 34A), and suffered as preteen boys yanked at the back of my bra and let it snap. By eighth grade, I was a C-cup. (Salma Hayek is a 36C.) Now it was male teachers, not just male classmates, who stared at my chest.
By 13, when other girls were buying their first bras, I was already outgrowing mine. Alarmed at my all-too-rapid development, I did some research and learned about Cooper's ligaments, delicate connective tissues that keep breasts perky. Once they break, they're broken forever. I told my Phys. Ed. teacher that I could no longer run, lest I break those precious ligaments and get Cooper's droop. Just like that, I was excused from running—seemingly for the next 40 years.
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