Breasts. Tits. Boobs.

Whatever you may call them.

 

Yes, however you may refer to them, my breasts are my most significant area of body insecurity.  Ever so quintessentially clichéd, I’m fully aware.  Allow me to clarify.  Yes, the insecurity pertains to size but perhaps not quite in the way you think.  I’ve never once desired to be a cup I am not.  To provide some provenance, pre-Eve, I was a 34B.  Right after having Eve, I stayed 34D for a long time.  Then I went to being a 36B, and now, I’m at 34AA.  Clearly, lingerie stores have had me to singularly support their existence these past few years, what with all that yo-yo movements of my cleavage (you’re welcomed).

So, my bone of contention is that I do not crave more but I yearn to regain what I’ve lost through the years of weight fluctuations and intensive workouts.  I want to be a 34B again.

No more, no less.

I’ll be the very first one to admit that it IS a lot easier and more efficient to be petite where breasts are concerned.  I truly doubt I’d be able to undertake all the stuff I do at the gym otherwise.  I see women with ample bosoms box, run, bench press, and I cringe because it is (more often than not) painful to watch.  Metaphorically for me, and literally for them.

I am able to jump high up into air and know that when I descend, and my feet touch the ground, my breasts do the same.  Without any lapse in sequence or timing.  We land together.  That may seem amusing to some but honestly?  When that doesn’t happen, the pain and/or discomfort levels are insanely high.  For that, I am ferociously grateful.

And even as I bemoan the loss of curvature (and athletic pursuits aside), I also appreciate how from a sartorial perspective, I am able to wear certain garments which someone more generously endowed would not, or rather, should not (tongue fully in cheek).  What sort of style challenges do I mean, you ask?

Ruffles across the chest.

Low back garments that reveal side boob.  Or the overflowing thereof.

Buttoned-down tops that fit everywhere else but there.

Strapless swim things.  Strapless most things actually.

Just bra with blazer.

Like what I’ve got on today.

I mean, it isn’t as if women with full breasts can’t wear all those things, they most certainly can if they so choose.  Being the proponent of self-love that I am, perpetually advocating confidence and empowerment, I am all for that.

That said, the end result isn’t always pleasing or polished.

There’s something to be said about lapels laying flat.  The smooth lines of a figure-flattering garment.  Non gaping buttons.  About zero jiggling when walking while clad in a top that hugs every curve, every line.

I don’t know.  I often wonder what a woman on the other side of the breast spectrum would say about her endowments.  Would she consider them both a blessing and a curse?  Does she (ever) think of having smaller ones?  I question also why society places so much emphases on the attraction level of a woman in direct correlation with her bra cup size.  Is that actually true in all circumstances?  I feel as though most of the men I’ve spoken to don’t see it that way.

Or perhaps they were just being polite to petite-chested me.  Who knows GRIN

Back to my concerns about boob size.  Well, I did something about it in early May.  No, we’re not talking implants.  Or fillers.  Or fat transfers.  I recently went through stem cell therapy for my Lupus and decided to have localised injections into both knees, right shoulder/rotator cuff and, yes, my breasts. That. Hurt.  So much that I almost gave up halfway through but the thought of having lopsided boobs was enough to propel me forwards and onwards.

If research is to be believed, I should see a slight (oh so natural) augmentation in the bustline over the next six to eight months.  Nothing quite Pamela Lee Anderson (thank god) but sufficient to realise the need to purchase new bras.

My doctor pre-empts that I will require at least another two to three procedures, on a annual basis, primarily for the Lupus but hey, why not provide more aid to the cleavage whilst we’re at it, right?  To be honest, I haven’t seen any difference yet.  It’s early days so I’m not surprised.

I am, however, cautiously optimistic.  And excited to see what transpires.

Would you be interested to know when I know?

Now to the denim at hand.  A few days ago, we showcased jeans worn on the DL.  Today, we’re featuring that very same pair (Eve and I, we are) in a fancy fashion.  Not too long ago, those two words, “denim” and “fancy” would never ever appear in the one same sentence yet here we are, with them being paraded at galas alongside the most elaborate of bejewelled gowns.  Of course I am, in true Sheela style, 24 hours late (forgive me, please, Jodie and Eve, I really am trying my best to play catch-up) (and failing in a most epic fashion, clearly).

Take a look at how we all dressed our jeans fit to paint the town red.

Eve, Teens (the world according to eve)

Look at mah boo go.  Strutting her stuff in that deliciously adorable polka dot peplum top with those jeans (that I still covet and yearn for).  If you look at her fuchsia wedges carefully, you might just spy a tiny black heart she drew in with a Sharpie many years ago.

Sheela, 40s (sheela writes)

I think “fancy jeans”, I instantly think blazer and lace.  I do not know I think that but here they are, in all their dressed up glory.  The choker added a touch of IDGAF.

Jodie, 50s (jodie’s touch of style)

Love the plethora of print and texure in this outfit.  So SO many things going on but look at how harmoniously (and aesthetically) they’re cohabiting alongside each other?  And to think just a scant year or so ago, print mixing wasn’t quite Jodie’s cup of tea 🙂

Stacy, 60s (jodie’s touch of style)

What an unusual choice to pick yellow as an accent colour.  Bold but not even remotely overpowering, those pops provide the perfect (heady) dose of zest to Stacy’s look.  She needs to be careful with that bag though, I’m terribly inclined to snatch it away for myself!!!

Charlotte, 80s (jodie’s touch of style)

I adore the walking disco ball aka Charlotte.  All that sparkling goodness.  It could’ve gone so wrong but her sequinned top is a perfect sartorial contrast to the clean, stark lines of her dark wash jeans.  And look at her sunnies OMG #girlcrush

And there you have it.

Fancy jeans.

How do you dress denim up?

 

Love, Sheela

I link up here.