Every day I am grateful for my small boobs. I have a size 32B and they pretty much look the same as when I got them some 30 years ago. But during my teens and early adults until I turned 30 I was always self-conscious and were ridiculed in Swedish High School for being so flat chested, called “the Plank”. Not so much at dance class thankfully, where it often has been an ideal to be skinny and have small boobs to make a nice line. Sometimes I would consider enlarge them only to realize that one of my friends had to undergo a painful reduction and I am basically against plastic surgery unless for restoration. It lowered my self-confidence for many years even though my boyfriends always thought a handful was good enough.

Until my mother got breast cancer in 1999 and had to remove one of hers. The five years that followed until her passing were awful but one of the blessings in disguise were a whole new perspective on my own body, both as a tool for expressing art and lovemaking and the necessity to take good care of it to house my soul. My boobs are of course also the obvious symbol of my own feminine identity beautiful in their natural state, now knowing that they are good enough.

I did use the wrong bra-size for many years too (depending on style I used to wear 34A) but at the end it is always how we carry ourselves.

What do you carry?