BooBlog

I am here for the boos', booze and, I am the boobs!

October is full of all of my favorite things from treats, the Fall season, haunts, Halloween. Not to mention copious amounts of horror films where women are victims or, heros and, theres no shortage of boobs. In the films and, in costumes. Boobs + horror = sex appeal. A self-proclaimed "Big-titty-Goth" I embrace my attributes. However, I rarely speak on the fact that October is also Breast Cancer Awareness month. Seems like it would be fitting that a woman with planet-sized boobs should be advocating breast health during her and, her boob's, favorite time of year. After over a year of blogging, what took me so long to write about my “well-known” characteristics? I can only conclude that I’m just now embracing what most of you would love to.

You see, not too long ago, I had an idea to lose enough weight to appease the male plastic surgeons though my insurance so, they would grant me a “medically necessary” breast reduction. It would be a gift to myself for my 40th Birthday. That would have required me to be the same weight I was when I was 17. I have had no interest in losing that much weight, let alone keep it off. So, instead I asked myself, "Why should I leave it up to a team of male Doctor’s to determine what size my titties should be?" It seemed selfish to me to have an elective surgery to appease society while, women were out there having mastectomies and, wishing they didn’t have to.


So, after most of my lifetime, I stopped hating my boobs. I found that once I ceased telling the image in the mirror that I was a mutant, that I am a big, beautiful woman who is seeking to feel good on the inside as well as out would be my focus. Instead of killing myself with trendy diets and, work-outs meant for Marine’s. I replaced all that and, instead went for walks, took my time at the gym and, just simply made better food choices. That’s when I began to see the my body as Goddess-like. Especially my boobs. My proportions are mine and, damn it, they are fine!

I’ve always had big tits for as long as I can remember. My hatred of my boobs came when they first came in. I was about eight. I was the first girl in my classes that had boobs. I am also the first child of my Mom's, first niece and, Granddaughter on my Maternal side. Bra shopping with my Mom frankly, sucked. I was one of those kids who wasn't allowed to wear things, like spaghetti-straps, because they attracted the wrong attention from boys and, men. So, bra shopping was all about how I couldn't even wear certain bras because of how big my boobs were and, how I must have gotten such large breasts from my Dad's side of the family or, told they were a punishment because I made fun of my Aunt's big titties. I was a kid. So, if I made fun of my Aunt's boob size, it was because I heard it from somewhere. I also, remember feeling like this was very unfair that I had to be humiliated before the men even got the chance to lust over my tween boobs.

So, as I got older and, my boobs got bigger, they did begin to attract the opposite sex and, same sex even without me ever having to put on a spaghetti strap top. For brief moments in my youth I enjoyed them but, I wouldn't dare try to wear a bikini top. First, because my Mom would not let me and, because I was convinced there would be no way any retailer would carry bikini tops in my size. So, I never attempted to look or try them on. I did find my way into spaghetti straps, however. I loved the way my boobs filled them. I had an hour-glass shape and, all I did was walk and, smoke cigarettes! I was known as Michelle with the "big boobs" as long as my boobs have existed. By my late teens they were big, round, and perky. So, I got my nipples pierced. I had developed a sort of confidence around them and, had no issues lifting my top to show Rob Zombie my boobs in 1998. I never denied the opportunity to prove a skeptic wrong when they didn’t believe by boobs weren’t natural. It felt good to just let them be, love them for what they were and, allow other's to admire them.


But, the confidence didn't last.

When I had my first baby, I tried to breastfeed. It sucked. The lactation nurse that came in to get me started was a complete Twat. She told me I was going to suffocate my newborn and, kept moving my breasts with annoyance. Yes, she was literally trying to feed my baby. With my boob. With her two hands. Hours of this and, my nipples were raw, cracked, peeling and, it just hurt! I was over it and, I also didn't have the support I needed for what breastfeeding entails. The next morning, my boobs were engorged with milk and, three times the size they were the day before. More pain. Now, they were tender, dripping with milk and, my nipples weren't healed. When the milk finally absorbed back into my body (or leaked all out) I was left with tits twice the size they had been before I was pregnant.

Kid number 2. No breastfeeding.

Kid number 3. Let’s try this again. So, I had the proper support and time to properly breastfeed. Kid number 3 was much easier to feed and, I was more relaxed. We nailed it! For only three months. I had to go back to work and, the alloted"pumping breaks" did not offer adequate enough time back then. Baby #3 was hungry and, I was not able to keep up the supply his appetite demanded. But, three months of bonding with my baby boy was lovely. It was with my Daughter and, final baby, that I had the full breastfeeding experience. She was a "chi-chi" baby from the moment she latched on until she was eighteen months old. I used to walk around Disneyland and, find little areas to whip out my boobs and, feed her. I used to love the Mommy's Center to take breaks in from walking around the park and, I was able to sit with my baby in a quiet atmosphere and, nourish and, bond with her. She used to have her hand down my shirt anytime she was near me. My boobs were her security blanket and, I loved it! She was fully mine at those times and, I firmly believe she is the healthiest of my children because of her 18 months on the tit.

Unfortunately, I was back to being ashamed of the size of my boobs so, I would cover up when I fed her in public. Society wouldn't be able to understand how I was able to comfortably feed my Daughter when my tits were bigger than she was. Those who did see often marveled at how my little girl had a system of her own. She knew how to use her hands to manipulate my breasts to her liking. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced with another human. Tits down!

And by the way, my Male Ob/Gyn told me if I would just breastfeed, my boobs would shrink. In my case, they only got bigger with each child. Even after breastfeeding my daughter for 18 months. I mean no disrespect to males in the Ob/Gyn profession, or any male Doctor that handles boobs, but, despite all your education and, experience, you'll never know what it's like to actually be and, feel like a woman. Try to remember that when you're telling a woman how her body will react to...well, anything.

When we would have these moments, my Daughter and, I, I would often think about how I would encourage her to love her developing body. No way I wanted to take her bra shopping and, embarrass her the way I was. But, that meant I had to go bra shopping. Even as an adult I dealt with massive anxiety about bra shopping for fear of being shamed or made fun of. I would wear two bras, a raggedy maternity bra that was well past chi-chi days, and, a frumpy sports bra. All in order to avoid bra shopping. It worked for me. But, it was by no means sexy. When I decided to train for a 3k, I would go out before sunrise and, jog along hidden trails so, neighbors, Karen's and, even my friends wouldn't see my boobs bouncing down the trail.

Sure, I wanted to be fit and, that meant I would have smaller tits and, be able to easily shop for sexually-appealing bras instead of ones made for Great-Grandma’s. I had heard about places that made custom bra’s for special cases. So, you can see why I felt “special.” My Husband got sick of me wearing shit bras that I would just grab because they were inexpensive and, close enough to what my size was. He calmed my anxiety as best as he could when he took me to Lane Bryant and, talked to the fitter on my behalf. He explained to her, how anxious I was and, why I was that way. Because of his kindness, the attendant made me so comfortable while she took my measurements. She laughed at my jokes and, told me I was beautiful. Thanks to this experience, I know what size I wear and, can get bras that actually fit and, are sexy at the same time. I now know I can buy sexy bra’s from Torrid and, Jeannette's Bras. All made for us curvy and, busty AF Babes.


At the same time, I have ditched the bra's whenever possible. Despite the acceptance that some of us women wear sizes bigger than a D-Cup, they are simply uncomfortable. I refuse to wear a bra in my home and, sometimes away from home. Who invented bra's anyways? Why were they invented? To support and, enhance a woman's cleavage. That sounds about male, right? They were in fact invented by a woman in the late 1800's. I wonder why? But, thats a blog for another day. The thing is, bra's can distort the health of breasts if they don't fit properly. Breast tissue can be displaced and, pulled so, again, why? Could you handle it if you saw me bra-less at a convention? I know a few who would be grasping for their crosses if so. I know even more would be repulsed and, as many will objectify me.

So, you see, bra's are a form of slavery, in my opinion. Something American Society considers a must-have because, well, women must be kept in line and, tits uplifted.

Upon my awakening, when I accepted myself for who I am and, started giving myself positive affirmations in the mirror, instead of the ones where I told myself I am disgusting, a mutant and, not worthy of beauty, I realized I didn't need a reduction. I can be chubby with huge tits and, be sexy. It was Tess Holiday's @effyourbeautystandards and, witchcraft that helped me see that I don't have to fit within the typical societal standards of beauty. I began to convince myself that I don't have to cover up and, hide who I am inside and, out. So, to the delight of my boobs, I decided a breast reduction is not what I needed. I needed to simply be comfortable in my own skin and, with these boobs. If everyone else loved them, I should love them more.

My newfound confidence comes with massive amounts of selfies. When I look good, I take pics of myself. When my titties look good, I take pics. When they do something funny, (like float like buoys in a pool) I laugh about it and, love on them. When, I see a meme that is relatable to my boobs, I save it and, share it with you all. That’s for me to do and enjoy with people who love me and, my boobs together as a whole being.

Lately, I am noticing the fetishization of curvy black women and, of corpse, our breasts. Men....smh. Let me make this clear as fuck for you, when we women, especially black women, take pics of ourselves in our chonies while doing yoga, or just chilling in a pool, that's not for you. Thats for me! That is for us! Admire respectfully! I know thats so, so hard for you sensitive male's to hear. That our bodies are not meant for you to objectify. Women's bodies are fucking beautiful. I get that. All the shapes, colors and, sizes we each have should be worshipped and, respected. So before, you go sending 1990’s chauvinist singular-worded comments like "Boobies" to me, you better fucking know me and, respect me. Only a handful of male’s are allowed to chime in on my Big Titty Goth Dialects. They know who they are, and got that way because they never made me feel objectified or fetishized. So, take note from those guys if you want to get in good with me and, my boobs. I've spent a lifetime hating my entire body because of your fetishes, incorrect assumptions that I need to impress you and, my "Vanity is God" upbringing. I know my tits are sexy and, beautiful. I don’t need your tasteless comments about them as reminders.

So, this brings me to why I wanted to write about my boobs. I got my first Mammogram! And, it was in October!


I was able to share the experience with my trusted straight-male buddies just as I was able to with my queer and, straight female friends. I wasn’t afraid to turn 40 but, I have been afraid to get my first Mammogram. My Mother always complained about how agonizing they were when she would get them done. I heard similar tales from others as well. I heard about bodies being moved in uncomfortable ways. Just think “ Titty Smash” while your arm is bent backwards and, you're bent over. That's what I pictured. I always visualized plopping my right tit on the panel and it breaking the whole machine. I wondered if they had machines big enough for them! I imagined my tits, MINE being smooshed between the panel and the upper plate and, it looking like pizza dough rolling off the sides of the machine. I was worried it was going to fucking hurt. I am already constantly worried about every minor blemish I feel, thinking it could be a suspicious lump. Now, annual mammogram’s make the risks real.

COVID gave me the opportunity to put preventative care (and bras) aside. So, when I went in for ongoing vagina maintenance the last thing I expected was to be told, "You are 40 and, before you ignore us again, you should go to Mammography, right now, and, get a same-day appointment." Goth damn it! Well, my Husband drove me and, wouldn't leave until I got it done. I was shaking. My breath was labored. I was not in the mood for anymore female pains. The Gal who checked me in picked up on my nervousness so, after making sure I wasn't actually experiencing COVID symptoms, she assured me, it wasn't as bad as my Mother was making it. She was a beautiful black queen so, I felt a bit better. That was until I hit the waiting room and, asked if my 40 year old Ghoulfriend’s have had theirs yet. I was disappointed at them all. They hadn’t. But, the technician was even more comforting. She handled these planets better than I do. The smoosh wasn't bad at all. In fact, there was no pain or discomfort! Maybe it's because my tits are so big and, have so much cushion whereas women with smaller breasts have it worse? Either way, it was hard for me not to laugh at how comical they looked in that smooshed perspective. It was like literally playing with pizza dough. But, in no way was I embarrassed of my tits in that moment. I felt empowered and, I think they ( my boobs) were also grateful for the first time check up.

I am convinced my right one has it’s own consciousness.

After my boobs were happily smooshed, released and, temporarily confined to a bra, I couldn’t help but, think about all the women who don’t have insurance. Those who can’t make same day appointments to have a lump checked. Ladies and, progressive straight male thinkers, we must ensure the survival of Planned Parenthood and, other Women’s clinics. It’s easy for you to admire my tits in a top or dress. It’s easy to admire most women’s but, what are you doing to ensure titties stay healthy?

My boobs are fucking bootiful. I’m proud being in the category of “Big Titty Goth” alongside kind and gorgeous @manku_geal. I love feeling as unapologetic about my body the way @frenchiedavis does. I love when my right tit comes out to play and, see what I’ve got going on. I love that I can fit four flasks inside my bra! I love that I can give my kids a laugh when they invade my bathroom time and, find me shoving paper towels under my tays so I can do my make-up, naked, without the tickle of boob sweat. I love that a collab on a whole comic series about my tits is in talks! I love dropping a tit on my Husband’s head when he least expects it. Often knocks his glasses off but, hey! I love the reaction "Pearl Clutcher's" have when they cross my path on a day I’m wearing a tank top. I love that Sourpussclothing has bathing suits that work for my boobs and, I can keep it spooky in summer. I love that now, my Sister and, a few of my Cousin’s have big ass titties and, my mom was wrong that my boobs were a result of mockery and, not “from my Dad's side of the family." I love that my tits are offensive and, controversial. I love that they have their own haters. I love my sexy, funny, unique tays. I love that they are now being properly cared for. In October no less.













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