Don't Knock My Knockers

For as long as I can recall, every boy or man that I've ever met is obsessed with breasts. It's almost as if the first moment they tore themselves away from their mothers bosoms long enough to take a look at them, they were henceforth fixated.

To every young boy this peaks at the point of puberty. This is the time when a boy's voice (and testicles) drops and suddenly his buddies from the playground start growing magnets on their chests and are suddenly not their buddies any more, but girls. 

Not me though. 

I was so flat-chested that I managed to stay everyone's 'buddy' for an impressive amount of time. At the age of 14 I had the body of a Vietnamese gymnast (not in a good way) and actually watched my Dad laugh in my face when he'd heard I'd gone to the bra department of Brent Cross. The rest of John Lewis was equally amused.

It would be hypocritical of me to ask the male community "what's the obsession?" because I seemed to have one of my own. I spent so many years hoping for an ample cleavage that when it finally arrived I hardly knew what to do with it (aside from hide money in it...obviously).

Ever since my breasts have fluctuated even more than John Travolta's. It has actually got to the point that I have what can only be described as a Pick'N'Mix shop of bras in my wardrobe, ranging from AA-E. Disturbingly enough, I have over 40 bras as a result. If anyone looked through my room, they would think I'm probably a psycho lesbian who invites all my friends over to try on bras. I mean they wouldn't be wrong...but that's a whole other thing. 

My main point that I'm actually getting to, is that people spend so much time criticising breasts. You probably thought I would be writing this article complaining about how men drool over them. Yes, it can make you uncomfortable and yes some girls do get them out too often but there's so much more to it than that. 

In the summer I found myself losing rapid amounts of weight due to a form of contraception I was on, that no one had mentioned had been banned in the UK two years ago...mildly awkward.
It was at this point that I lost all my curves, breasts included and developed a skinny, toned frame. I suddenly got all kinds of attention that I wasn't used to. Girl attention. (I'm not circling back to the psycho-lesbian thing, I promise).
Girls would either praise me for my gaunt, bony figure or give me shady jealous looks. I didn't understand what they had to be jealous of, I looked unhealthy. 

Before^                                                     After^

This made me realise just how easily the standards of female body image have been corrupted in this country. If this is how I was being treated, it was no surprise how many girls of our generation had started turning to eating disorders. It seems that in spite of all the Beyonce and Nigella role models out there, girls lust after the skinny look. Not boys though, the only boy I managed to attract looking like that was gay. He told me he liked my ass. I don't need to elaborate. 

While I had switched to a different contraceptive pill and was happily putting the weight back on like I was in some Hansel and Gretel fantasy, I realised the one thing that can save the declining body image of the UK - Breasts. 

I hoped that if they could make me feel so much more optimistic about casually putting on 2st then maybe the rest of the world would wake up and realise that men don't like skinny bitches. They like tits.
Point(ers) blank. 

If you look at any teenage boy's bedroom wall, they don't have pictures of Vogue models with their spines sticking out all Twilight style, they have curvaceous healthy women. With very unhealthy relationships with their fathers...but that's not my problem. 

I challenge you to find one boy that has a problem with this birds hips and tum.

I'm not saying she's not a dumb slut, she is, but you can't wank over a hipbone.

Men don't want to fuck stick insects, I've asked around loads.
Whether it's nice boobs, healthy thighs or even a somewhat jiggly tummy, the sight of a healthy woman is the most appealing thing to a man. It's actually all scientific, when men see a woman with big breasts and hips a subconscious lightbulb goes off in their head telling them they've found a healthy woman to carry their children. Therefore a man will always be more attracted to a glowing chick, even if she has a spot of cellulite. 

I'm not saying that all girls should have big boobs, or even show them off but simply that they are a symbol of a healthy feminine body. With all the bullshit of androgynous fashion and Jessie J drilling through my radio about doing it like a brother, it's sometimes nice to just appreciate being a girl. 

For anyone that knows a woman that's been through breast cancer, or has even been through it themselves you really get to understand what a big part of your femininity your breasts are, and how robbed you could feel without them. Behind the push up bras, glamour models and tit-tape, there's actually a lot of our female identity that lies in our breasts and shouldn't be taken for granted. It is essentially what makes us women and mothers, a luxury deprived to some.

I happen to get a lot of slack for being proud of my boobs.
On Wednesday night I received a "very you to have your boobs out, Geisler."
To which I just said, "yep, didn't want to leave them behind."
There are some girls that have their boobs out too often, and those are the ones that define themselves by them, almost as if they're diverting attention away from their faces.

 I'm not going to pretend I don't get drunk and flash my friends, or that I make an extra effort to wear high necked tops, but I am proud of my body no matter what shape or size. 

After all, with so many repugnant girls flaunting their ass cheeks in my face every night of the week, it's probably a bit refreshing to see a socially acceptable body part...or two. 

Hope you enjoyed the read

Olivia Jane

xx