When I was a pre teen I never imagined myself having boobs.
I took ballet lessons knew they would bounce around and get in the way.
All of the Prima ballerinas in Dance magazine had no boobs so why should I?
So with that in mind, I used to lie on top of my hardcover school books so that my boobs wouldn't grow.
That was generally the extent of use the school books ever got.
Maybe it worked, because at 15 I still hadn't developed any boobs.
Instead I think all of my boob fat went into my J Lo/tomuchassforawhitegirl booty.
The boys out here in my Bed Stuy neighborhood yell "nice ass Snowflake!" when i'm walking home.
Anyway, back on topic, being flat didn't bother me that much, and I never really missed boobs because I was used to being able to go bra-less.
Well I never did become a dancer, I went into acting.
An industry where large breasts are a good thing.
Some things about being flat chested are rather annoying.
My Dr told me that I can't get a mammogram because they are to small to fit in the machine.
Sometimes I can go to the teen section or training bra section, and find a better fit than in women's.
I have friends who complain about having to much boobage. I always ask if they will donate some to me.
Finally after getting sick of going to auditions with no rack, I went out determined to find those chicken cutlet push up thingies I kept hearing about.
It was a sacred day at Century 21 when I bought my first pair of boobie enhancers.
I didn't get the gell kind because the texture was kind of gross, but a soft nylon pair.
When I got home and tried them on it was love at first sight.
If I could marry my fake boobs I would.
The one concern is when wearing them i'm constantly worried that one is going to pop out! Mainly because I can't get the double sided tape that came with them to work.
I have visions of being in the middle of a monologue or onstage, or having sex with a casting director and one of my boob pads falling out on the floor.
What would I do?
Would I say "whoops lost one!", pick it up and pop it back in?
Would I leave it on the floor and pretend it wasn't mine?
In the end, having a little fake B cup is worth all the stress, and maybe if I'm good Santa will bring me implants for Christmas next year.