Chest Size Isn’t The Measure of A Woman: The Story of How I Began To Love My Body

I went back to college when I was in my mid 20’s. Most of the other students were just out of high school and I think those people, that generation grew up in a more LGBTQ community. There was even an office for the LGBTQIA community, though I was too scared to go in. I wished I could just walk in, but I couldn’t figure out how I’d fit in if I wasn’t officially out, though I suppose that’s why it was there. I’m still not out, as in I don’t call myself any title.

In my anthropology class, there was a person who was non-binary, and went by ‘they’. I was fascinated. I’d never met anyone, up until that point who identified as such. I actually never even spoke to them besides when needed for assignments. Just observed as we held class.

I’ve always wished I had a larger chest. In my mind, I wasn’t a ‘real woman’ because it was so small. Though I know plenty of other women who rock the look just fine. So in my self-consciousness, I always wore bras and shirts that had padding or flattered the figure I desired. The thing didn’t always fit right, certainly weren’t comfortable, but I felt better in them.

After having been in class for a few weeks, I had a strange feeling. I felt like it was time to change up my look.

On this day I decided to change out the larger, formed bra that didn’t really fit, and left a lot of space for a small, sleek sports bra. It basically flattened everything that was there. I threw on some ripped jeans, and one of my usual concert t’s. This time though the concert t looked different. I looked different. I FELT different.

When I walked through school I felt like a different person. I didn’t feel self-conscious. At least not as much as usual. I felt more powerful. When I looked in the mirror I felt like myself.

It was so freeing. I wore that same bra for weeks after that. When I put on that shaped bra again one day, I felt so uncomfortable, I could see how badly it had fit. I couldn’t stand it. It was like looking at someone else.

I finally felt comfortable just being me, and not trying to make it look like I had a larger chest than I did. I’ve never gone back since then.

Since then I’ve only ever worn sports bras. I’ve never once wished I had a larger chest. I’m grateful that I’ve had a small one. I’d be fine if it were smaller some days even. It’s one of the most unexpected things that set me off on another journey of self-discovery, that is as always still in progress.