image © Liz Frost
There’s a lot to be said for having small breasts: they can be easily contained in a strappy dress; they don’t threaten to smack you in the chin when you run and you can spend whole summers without wearing a bra if you so wish.
That said, I’ve seen the way men react to bigger boobs. I’ve seen my boyfriend get that helpless faraway look when confronted with a particularly good pair (I don’t blame him - there’s something so mesmerizing about big breasts that I even find myself staring sometimes).
So, this week, as a social experiment (and out of sheer curiosity), with the help of a much bigger bra and plenty of padding, I transformed myself from a 32B to a 34DD for 24 hours to see what it really feels like.
My first challenge was making my new breasts realistic. Even with all the extra padding, there was still a big gap. As I peered down the chasm where my cleavage should be, I could just about spy my own meagre offerings cowering in the corner. It was a problem.
After much deliberation, I eventually settled on a solution by pulling my real breasts forward so they sat squeezed together on top of all the padding.
It all took me back to pre-pubescent school days, where I’d stuff the breast pockets of my school summer dress with sweet wrappers.
Once satisfied they looked real, I was surprised by how sexual they made me feel. Suddenly, I felt very ‘womanly’ and as I stepped outside my front door I came over all self conscious.
I wondered if they'd have an effect on how I behaved; whether I’d be more flirty than usual or whether they’d turn me into a bit of a wall flower.
Fighting the urge to run back indoors, I decided on a trip to the supermarket to give them a bit of a road test.
Normally, I wouldn’t give breasts a second thought, but looking around me as I walked down the street, I began to notice other people’s assets. There was such a smorgasbord of different shapes and sizes, I wondered how men ever got anything done.
It wasn’t long before my breasts drew their first glance from a passing chap. His eyes met mine for a moment and travelled swiftly south, past my chin, where they treated themselves to quite a long rest somewhere among all the chicken fillets and Kleenex.
I must admit I felt quite flattered (if a little violated). After that I found myself blushing at every passing guy, whether he was staring or not.
image © Liz Frost
Sainsbury’s is usually a bit of an endurance test for me. I spend most of my time dodging stray trolleys and being bumped into and pushed in front of.
That was, I realised, until now. So magnificent were my new breasts that people seemed to move out of the way to let me pass.
Not only that, but men passed me things from high shelves and smiled at me as if to say ‘stand back, you don’t need to exert yourself when you have such a tremendous pair of bosoms, let me get that for you’.
At one point I dropped a packet of OXO cubes and two men bumped heads trying to pick them up. I couldn’t believe how much of an impact a bit of padding had had on my shopping experience.
I hadn’t banked on feeling inferior about my own real breasts. I’d always loved them the way they were, but seeing what a furore having larger breasts was causing, I couldn’t help wondering if my man felt short-changed with my normal modest handful.
Pushing feelings of inadequacy aside, I got ready to face the music down our local pub. We were to have a game of pool against Peter and Terry, a couple of regulars.
As we entered, I half expected people (who had seen me there before countless times) to point and say “Look at her tits!” but with my boyfriend present, people made the effort to avert their eyes politely.
Even Peter and Terry did a good job of not noticing, (although later my boyfriend confessed that he had caught a few people sneaking a peek when I wasn’t looking).
As the evening wore on, I lost my inhibitions a bit. Leaning over the pool table to take a shot was suddenly full of sexual innuendo (putting aside the fact that I had to be careful not to lose one of them down a pocket). Did I feel more flirty? Definitely.
Nipping to the toilet, I walked past a table full of men playing cards and they all stopped to watch my breasts pass. I felt like I had stumbled across some ancient power, but I had to remind myself that they weren’t real; tomorrow things would return to normal.
At home, I stood in front of the mirror to have one last look at my buxom reflection before taking them off.
“Are you disappointed mine aren’t really this big?” I asked my boyfriend.
He smiled and shook his head “Not at all. I like all breasts, especially yours.”
I shut my breasts safely away in the drawer to be forgotten about. Whilst I’d enjoyed the experience, I was happy to go back to my usual size.
I knew that when summer arrived I’d relish the freedom that comes with dispensing with a bra and wearing a skimpy summer dress. That’s not to say I wouldn’t pop them back on for the occasional visit to Sainsbury’s though…
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