There was no reason to buy a bra nor a vest for my chest, The little white t-shirts with a thin light material where not much of a scare. For even in the mirror, I never used to find a problem with it.
Freedom to run in the dormitory with no blouse on, Freedom to rip off the shirt at the stair case as we run for the limited bathroom slots till a girl asked why are your breasts like that. A pause, a switch, now that I think about it, it was uninevitable question, those unexpected, weight-filled life-turning questions that get you thinking. I had no answer as to why the eyeball of my breast was darker and more spread out. As to the bridge between my breasts was wider, As to why my breast was a funnel.
With time the swelling of my breast was not exactly as round as hers. The stretch from my armpit, midway to my rib was round and fleshy but from that point stretching outwards to my nipple, was narrowed abit. From the front, it looks firm and stable but the curve or arch that holds the flesh below is not a firm or as sharp hooked. With time, it has been slipping but its still gracious with its role.
In the bra, a little round breast is pressed, plastered to walls of my chest, a full sight for my boyfriend. Off the bra goes in the evening, the little suffocated funnels escape the metal grasp. The little dots on my eyeball contract on sight, the nipple moves forward to find its form. After afew minutes, as I walk around and relaxe, they roll back into shape, the nipple crests in the middle fully fledged.
Reminds me of old times, when I felt my body rush to form when I was 10, we listened to old practices, got mingling sticks and tapped our breasts thrice every morning to prevent them from growing. At 13, we smeared ash on the nipples to mask their appearances. At 14, we got more rubber bras to tape them to our chests. No evidence whatsoever then at 16, I wanted them to be bigger.
I cannot help but squeeze my soft balls, conical relaxed and narrow, as you squeeze the peaches, the wide set, the day nappers, tear drop, twin peaks, whatever you call your set of breasts, to this day, I cannot explain why your areola is darker, or why the nipple might look away from your eye or why you can rest your chin on your breasts or why your bra size is so damn hard to find.
Make those occasional medical trips, let the warm water run over your breasts, run on the beach topless, walk into that family gathering with gyrating breasts, take a firm stand and love your breasts.