…now which word could that be? Ah yes…
That crevice of flesh that triggers a whole series of reactions! Oh the irony of the cliché wolf whistling appreciative builder who cannot resist the alluring sight of the divisional crack inbetween a woman’s chest pillows, yet himself displays a grotesque chasm of hair covered pale spotty arse cleavage, peeking over the top of his trousers that really need a belt.
The downright absurdness of the slim girl in the very tight short dress yelling ‘slag’ at a modestly dressed buxom beauty as she passes her by, one hand squeezing a boy’s bum, the other texting her boyfriend .
The outrageous cheek of the group of lads in their knockoff designer clothes who jeer at the sight of the woman in the formal dress, asking to ‘cop a feel to check what’s real’.
What is it about the stretch of skin that joins the mammary glands that sends all manner of seemingly together people into strange bursts of emotion? Why must men lose their heads and women sharpen their claws?
Ok so my examples and image may be a bit extreme, but as the owner of a sizeable rack I know that it’s not far off from the truth!
I’m not 100% comfortable with flashing my chest crack about all day every day, and that’s not entirely to do with me, it’s to do with the reactions I get. The smelly men who sidle up to me on the bus and make all kinds of animalistic grunts. The gobby girls who sneer and whisper, aiming scathing looks in my directions. When I cover them up – nada. They are still present, that 4inch gap of flesh just nestled under a thin strip of material. And yet when I lower the neckline ever so slightly I get the stares and double takes and I feel like I need to tug on outfit to divert those looks and distract them with a boob curtain.
Over the years I admit I have matured slightly, my views have changed, particularly towards women. I am less opinionated, less quick to judge and generally think a bit before making snap judgements. And so I have become increasingly baffled by women who find the need to not only make private references to my natural assets, but to be rudely vocal about them! Some of these women are older than my mother! And try as I may to brush it off, feel proud about my bra choice, come up with witty comebacks and so on it still leaves me upset and angry. Being called a “slag” or similar simply because I happen to have a top on that when filled with a larger than average chest shows me off a bit is not acceptable. Having men taunt me and try to grope me just because my bust is pushed up and out by a magnificent dress is pretty devastating. The line of flesh has a lot to answer for!
My boyfriend has mentioned that I seemed to show a lot more off before we got together – but to be honest my ill fitting bras and heavy sagging breasts were probably the reason for that display! I don’t think having a boyfriend has made me want to show less or dress in a less flattering manner. I dress how I do for me, to feel good, to look, dare I say it, sexy and beautiful. Showing cleavage is part of flattering my large bust, it breaks up my figure a little, helps me lose weight without the lettuce leaf overdose and suits my preferred pinup style of clothing. Women can look just as fab without any tit crack on display but for me it’s something I like. And yet I find myself feeling increasingly conscious as I take to heart all those things that people say. I am a very sensitive paranoid flower, and yes despite being smeared all over the interweb in my smalls I find it hard to cope with the things that people feel obliged to come out with when confronted with the sight of my heaving bosom.
Why do other women like to holler derogatory terms at those of us who, with or without the surgeon’s help have got a little more to show off? What gives them the right to express their – what is it? Jealousy? Frustrations? Why do people empty the contents of their putrid heads in the most hurtful of manners? That gap of skin does not suddenly add notches to a woman’s bedpost, whether or not they are real. I sound really bitter don’t I? To be fair I have had as many good experiences and comments from women as bad but it’s always the bad that stick with me and make me wary when I go out and see women’s eyes fall to my bust line. These women could fancy me, want to ask where my bra is from, want to compliment me – but all that’s going through my mind is “brace yourself George, you’re about to get slammed”.
And the men? Well several encounters with the opposite sex have led to me being particularly wary of them. In fact I have never had a man approach me solely about my bust in manner that is positive to me – and why would they? In my paranoid cleavage flashing world men seem to have no limit, no boundaries, no stop button. You can’t shame them, can’t often call their bluff or say something to put them off without making it worse. And they seem to think it is ok to howl over you like a piece of meat purely because of your cleavage. I have had way too many incidents on the underground where I have been travelling up the escalators and have had men coming down next to me yelling and whooping at the sight of my chest.
Get. Over. It.
To be honest, it’s no wonder that these overly paranoid feelings that so many of us busty women feel make us detest our chests. I know if mine were a bit smaller I’d be able to dress the same and avoid the grief – is this why so many women are desperate for reductions? Gorgeous bras readily available, strapless dresses ahoy, HIGHSTREET dresses in ‘normal’ sizes ahoy, no more back and shoulder pains and less stares? It’s a lot of busty women’s dreams to be able to have that life, no wonder so many are clamouring to go under the knife, a fact that makes me feel very sad as despite everything I would never change my boobs.
I asked about issue of cleavage on my Facebook page and received what I deemed to be a fairly positive response! I know I have gone a little dark and deep here but I am being extreme, trying to explain my worst case scenarios and point out just how ridiculous the reactions are! I hope to one day be able to stand, shoulders back, chest out and be completely proud of my boobs, cleavage or no cleavage, any time of day and in most situations. I don’t think the answer is to always “cover myself up” or think myself “lucky for what I have been given” – those are uneducated retaliations. And so until then I will question and pick at what it is that makes people turn into hideous caricatures of themselves at the sight of bare breast flesh – I needed to get this issue off my chest.