Peripheral Vision. Or, How I Realized I Have Boobs.

My breastesses have been a topic of conversation in my family for years. This is because the distribution of mammary matter among the women in my family has been disproportionate. I've never paid much attention to my mother's because they seem just about right. My sister ended up with more than a fair handful--a curse she hopes one day to alleviate. In the meantime, she continually threatens to wear a t-shirt to work that says, "My eyes are up here, moron" with arrows rising from her chest area to her face.¹

I, on the other hand, was a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee (IBTC) for years!² Over the years, my breastessess have matured and filled out a bit more and I'm no longer sure I'd continue to meet the requirements for membership in the IBTC. Still, they aren't ginormous and for that I'm grateful. That said, I haven't exactly flattered or done favors for my figure in the last eight years either.

That's because about eight years ago, I discovered sports bras. Wonderful contraptions. They practically plaster your breasts to your chest and make them nearly immovable. This is a good thing, if you make exercising or any kind of sport a part of your lifestyle. On occasion, I have been known to exercise, hence the existence of sports bras in my life.

For months now, Emm has been telling me I need to get better bras, because apparently I have a figure. So, several weeks ago, she, my friend Ms. Swizzies, and I went clothes shopping. The last stop of the day before the mall closed at 6:00³ was Beldona's for bras. Both Emm and Ms. Swizzies insisted.

To make a long story short, Emm and Ms. Swizzies hauled out bras for me. Both of them--Emm more than Ms. Swizzies--woman-handled my breastesses into those bras, making an adjustment here and a push-up there and voila! My chest went from being an androgynous no-ma'am's land to hubba hubba!

Mission accomplished, I paid for my bras⁴ and off we went. I've been wearing those bras now for about a month and I will admit, they do flatter my figure and my assets far more than squishifying sports bras ever did, will, or could. Other than that, though, I haven't really noticed my breasts or the impact of a positive bra on the same.

So the other day, I'm walking down the hall at work. I generally try to look straight ahead when I'm walking. This seems to help me avoid running into things or people. Anyway--I'm proceeding along, looking straight ahead, when I suddenly become aware of something in my peripheral vision. It wasn't anything above or beside me, but rather, below me. With shocking clarity I realized, "I HAVE BOOBS!"

That's right, boys and girls. My bras have transformed my peripheral vision! I'm no longer a flat-chested bore. I'm a busty broad...

Oy, moron! *SLAP!* My eyes are up here!



1. I found this picture of said t-shirt on Zazzle. What I find intriguing is the model has virtually no breasts. Frankly, I think the model in this picture is a man with long hair. So much for truth in advertising!
2. I even have a t-shirt to prove it. I'd show it to you, but it's at home in the States.
3. Crazy, right? But hey, this was Switzerland. Apparently, it's a miracle they're even open that late on a Saturday!
4. Good Lord, but bras are expensive! I can get six sports bras at Jockey for what I paid for two bras at Beldona. Sheesh.

Photo sources: Google Images and Wikimedia.