Beverly Cialone: What It’s Like To Have 44 Double D’s!

Beverly Cialone
I began to “develop” around the age of nine. My mother blamed it on medications I received at the age of four after I received a nasty burn and a resulting skin graft on my arm. 
At the age of nine, I started my period and the rest of me also began to develop.  Since I was still in elementary school, I received a fair amount of teasing due to my enlarged chest and the arrival of my period.  The boys, of course, didn’t really tease me then. Even as I got older, I wasn’t what you’d call the “popular” type.  Frankly, I was more concerned with my weight than my chest, even though my mother made comments along the lines of “That’s all the boys will want” and things like that. Bra shopping was a nightmare—I DID have a fair amount of modesty and having a complete stranger (the sales persons)  touch me THERE was a bit disconcerting. 
As an adult, things have been very different from the way they were when I was in school.  I, probably more than anyone else, am acutely aware of just how big my breasts are.  My bra size has increased to a 44 DD and that seems to be the size I will always be.  I have never really considered a breast reduction, though. I DO have back problems from time to time but I chalk that up to a few nasty falls I’ve had in the past instead of my breast size.  That, and having an epidural with my youngest son. 
I can’t really tell you if I have ever been offered or denied employment because of my breast size, because I don’t know. I remember reading an article about doctors that suggested doctors/surgeons with big breasts weren’t regarded as “trustworthy” or as “capable” as their smaller-breasted female counterparts. I thought that was just ridiculous. Breast size has no impact on a person’s intelligence or their ability to perform a certain job and it isn’t really something a person can control.  They can, by way of surgical enhancement or reduction, but I have never opted for either of those.  As for my breast size and my romantic life, I actually had a former boyfriend tell me that he would always love me, just as long as my breasts didn’t get smaller. I thought that was a bit shallow and callous of him to say. My current boyfriend LOVES my breasts (and the rest of me!) just the way they are. I’ve engaged in “breast intercourse,” and I honestly don’t see the fascination with women’s breasts. Maybe men are just jealous because THEY don’t have them!
There are times when the size of my breasts affects how men treat me. Just the other night, my boyfriend and I had friends over for dinner – a married man and woman. I was outside talking with my boyfriend and the man and when I got up from the steps, I think my breasts must’ve jiggled a little (I wasn’t wearing a bra). I actually had to tell the man that my eyes were up HERE, not THERE, because he was definitely staring!)  I took no offense to it—I actually found it amusing. There was one instance in a bar where the man (yes, he was drunk and begging me to take him home with me) obviously couldn’t tear his eyes away from my generous chest, which prompted my friend to get me out of that situation in a hurry.  Despite that, I’ve never been in a wet T-shirt contest and when I’m not working, I DO tend to go bra-less. 
At the end of a long day, I feel I just HAVE to get out of my bra. Some bras feel like they’re cutting into my shoulders, while others, although they fit, don’t seem to give me the support I need. And one thing I absolutely will NOT do is wear a bra with an underwire.  I tried that once and once was more than enough for me! 
Women don’t necessarily treat me different. My women friends sometimes comment on it in a joking kind of way and I’m always a good sport about it.  I have been known to make comments about my own breasts to friends, whether they’re male or female.  It just depends on the friendship. 
Even though I’m aware of how big my chest is, I really don’t give it a lot of thought. I’ve seen the magazine models, I’ve seen pics of naked women with the “perfect”, perky breasts and had a few moments of envy but, for the most part, I’m content with what I have. The mere thought of surgery terrifies me, so that will probably never be an option for me. I sympathize with women who have breast cancer, even though I have never had to fight that particular battle. I know that for them, and probably every woman in the world, their breasts “define” them as being a woman.  If you see a woman with short hair and a flat chest, you really don’t tend to think of her as a “normal” woman, like the rest of your female friends.  The lack of breasts, whether by nature, disease, or choice, has a big impact on a woman emotionally.  Other people tend to look at her differently—some may wonder if she’s a lesbian, while others may wonder if she’s had her breasts removed due to cancer. I remember seeing a pic of a woman who had undergone a mastectomy and she chose to make that part of her chest a work of art by having an elaborate flower tattoo drawn where her breast used to be.  I thought that was a novel approach to what the monster disease of breast cancer had done to her. 
All in all, I can’t really say that my breasts have had a major impact on my life. Of course I remember the teasing in school, I remember feeling like an oddball because I was developing at such an early age when the other girls weren’t, but even though for me it revolved around my breasts, my weight, and the scar on my arm from the skin graft, I also know that other kids got  teased as well, for different reasons.  It’s just something that everyone has to go through. As an adult, I actually haven’t endured any “teasing,” per se, but I know that my breasts probably have the capability to garner a fair amount of attention in certain settings. Because of that, I make up my own jokes regarding them—I call them “The Girls,” “The Twins,” and I say things like, “They’re the first things to enter the room,” and “They’re so big they need their own oxygen supply!”  The other night at dinner I spilled some food on my shirt and I even joked about that—“See? They have to eat too, they were hungry.”  However, despite the jokes, I WAS told a long time ago by a nurse that since my breasts were so big, I would need to keep an eye on them because of the increased risk of breast cancer.  I really don’t know if having bigger breasts means I’m more at risk for something like that.  I’m 44 now and so far me and my breasts are doing just fine. They DO tend to sag a bit, even though I didn’t breast-feed either of my children but for some reason, certain men just seem to still find them attractive.  I know everyone has heard the phrase, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” and it would definitely apply here.  No matter what your breast size, be glad you have them—they make the already unique person you are even more so!

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Copyright Ark Stories 2011


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Dave
    Dec 13, 2011 @ 20:11:05

    You are gorgeous and have large breasts? Your boyfriend is one hell of a lucky man. What I wouldn’t give to be him. I’d have to spoil you everyday just to make sure you were happy. If he won’t give you an engagement ring, I sure as hell would. You are a very beautiful woman Beverly, and he should consider himself extremely blessed. Why can’t I ever find a woman like you?

    – Dave


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