Breast Stories

The Power of Breasts

He seemed to speak to my boobs, never quite managing to find my eyes. Which are brown, by the way.

I have to say, I didn’t realise the power of breasts until I was well into my 20s.

Don’t get me wrong, I knew there was something special about them. After all, breasts are able to sustain a baby's life. Not to mention, someone had wanted a photo of my boobs so much he felt it was worth using trickery to get the image, while a professional sought to touch one while using his title as a bargaining tool.

Both these incidences had been slightly traumatic and made me feel small rather than powerful. But that was all about to change.

I learned I could snake to the front of the bar and then get served very quickly by pushing my best assets forward.

I secured a waitress job while completing my degree at University because of the way I looked and was then encouraged to wear figure hugging clothes, which earned me double my wage in tips.

Then, when I approached a top-notch computer company in the city, I got through to the final two applicants while the guy interviewing me paid a lot more attention to my legs and blouse rather than my programming experience.

I was told by a few boyfriends that they’d never seen such wonderful boobs for real before. Once while sunbathing topless with a friend in Greece, a guy from the holiday flats joined us for a chat and just seemed to speak to my boobs, never quite managing to find my eyes. Which are brown, by the way.

A girlfriend who had gorgeous pert small breasts once told me if she could have anyone's boobs, rather than her own, then she would choose mine. I was flattered as I thought hers were pretty cool as they were.

So after a shaky boob start I decided I may as well enjoy the benefits of having breasts and began to look at them, and feel them, with new admiration.

After giving birth to my two children, I lost some muscle tone in the chest area, but my boobs remained full and firm. Yep, I have lucky breasts but felt I deserved them, after all I’d always wanted straight hair and been given frizzy locks instead. But it seemed I had been at the front of the boob queue when they were being moulded…

Then, when I was in my late 30s a friend who was only forty, found out she had breast cancer and needed a mastectomy. That is a story in itself, but suddenly I became very self-conscious about my own breasts. I felt shameful, almost. Wanting to hide them away. Wondering how they could be the object of so much enjoyment — and also… so much pain.

My friend and I were, and still are, close. I attended most of the chemotherapy treatments with her. I wanted to… For goodness’ sake, I still had my tits, that is the least I could do.

Time moved on, and she was given breast reconstruction surgery and slowly put her life back together. And then I once again gave thanks for my body.

But I realised something. My breasts are very much a part of who I am. Indeed, a slice of my identity. I love my friend so felt dreadful she had suffered when I stood there, intact… complete. I am sure many people who have boobs don’t feel like me, but I’m owning this truth.

As a woman who recently went through the menopause, I started to feel as if I wasn't being seen so much. This happens, and a lot is written about it. In a way it can be a relief too. A chance to stand in the background. Watch. Learn some more. However, I have noticed that even when I am feeling invisible, my breasts… well, they seem to remain a very visible part of me.

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Posy Churchgate - Writes & Edits Fiction shares her thoughts on boobs: