When a sharp pain ripped into my right breast. Then another — I gasped and cursed and realized: Marv Albert was biting me. Not a little nip. Not a cupcake lick. The bastard was chomping and the night air burned where his teeth had been. No wonder he didn't care about my little white, padded and pushed-up lie. He had a whole other agenda, though I had to admit, he'd worn it on his sleeve. I couldn't be mad at Marv; I'd put my bait out there, and he'd . . . bit. And though Marv didn't care about my confession, other lovers have admitted — after a few nights together or after our relationship ended — that they found my melodramatic monologues "cute" but unnecessary. They insisted that breast size means nothing.
Yeah. Sure. That's what they say. But they still all wanted to fuck my tits.
And while some of my girlfriends are too large to care, the B-cup and below crowd are split. Half declare they'd never wear a push-up because it is — and this term is used over and over again — "false advertising." I think their vehemence against a visual lie just shows how terrified of intimacy we all are. Dating requires that we lay so much bare; it's easier to cut down on the number of fakeries we must admit to.
As for false advertising, my pushed-up friends call this idea bullshit, claiming a big bra is no different than highlighting your hair or taking Viagra. Though a few of my friends don't claim to mind dropping a cup size in five seconds ("all parties involved know that my shit is being pushed up, so when I take it off, there should be no surprise when things 'settle' a bit"), many admit that, though they put on a brave face — hell yeah, it's an awkward moment no matter how much you love your inner goddess.
Among the ladies who push up then take it off, none of my friends have gone for the outright, Catholic-style confessions,
Every A-cupper knows that the dark, like a moderate amount of alcohol or a near-sighted lover, can be your best friend.
the way I did. (And approaching intimate moments with a pained expression and an I-have-to-tell-you-something sigh causes guys to jump to STD- or pregnancy-related conclusions.) So while I no longer dramatically prep my dates about the actual size of my breasts, I have learned a few tricks which help with the big bra reveal.
A quick note: of course, absolute personal acceptance is the best route to go. But we all have our good days and bad, our good sides and not-so-good sides. Do I admire those downtown hipster girls who let their real sagging breasts and luscious spreading thighs be photographed in bad light and torn underwear, all while wearing too much makeup and a "fuck you, if you're lucky" expression? Sure. But I also know one woman who — even after she had been married a full year — would not let her husband see her ass in the light. She would back out of rooms.
Most of us are somewhere in the middle.
I have one girlfriend who practices good posture; she strips, straightens, then pulls her shoulders back into near yogic-poses, thereby raising her breasts a few inches. I don't know how long she can hold it, but she also says using her inner arms to prop up her boobs works when she gets tired. I'm lazier; I often fling off the bra as I grab my partner's hands and form them into impromptu cups — he gets a nice handful but doesn't have a clear view of what's going on. A little moaning, shaking and hair flinging are my distracting special effects. For the beginnings of actual relationships, I unwittingly developed a bait-and-switch routine. I'd sneak into the bathroom before sex, remove my bra and slip on a tight tank top. With some careful placement and nipple tweaking, I looked almost as full-figured as in the bra. Just a lot colder.
And every A-cupper knows that the dark, like a moderate amount of alcohol or a near-sighted lover, can be your best friend. But when the lights are on, the few moments before disrobing are the mental equivalent of lingering on the high dive before you leap. You know it will be okay once you're in the water, but it looks like a long, long way down. But as with so many aspects of sex and relationships, you just have to take a deep breath, pop a button or two and try not to make mountains out of molehills. n°
