Big Girls

A friend posted today that she was taking her 14 year old daughter to Bravissimo for a fitting.  It got me thinking.  So this is not a post about emigrating, but a post about self esteem, models and bra sizes. 

I believe that, if one visited a random selection of secondary schools around the country (UK or North America) and took the measurements of a random selection of teenage girls, one could:
(a) get oneself arrested, and;

(b) prove that very few of them is, or is likely to be, a AA cup by the time she is 20 years old.

So the question is, why will my daughter and all the girls of her age be subjected to the same untruths that have affected me all my life? I have spent my life believing that true beauty and elegance cannot be achieved with anything larger than a C cup, because all those lovely clothes modelled on catwalks and in magazine throughout the world are designed to hang beautifully on the flat-chested. 

Dear teenage girls of the world, this is not true, and it has taken me nearly an entire lifetime to learn to believe that it is not my fault.  The physical shape of women has changed since the war-raised generation before us.  You will change the world and finally persuade the fashion world to start designing clothes that will make the full-busted, ample-hipped woman of the 21st Century look good and feel good about themselves.  You will convince them that they can give us a product that makes us feel wonderful about ourselves, instead of profiting from our disappointment and low self esteem. 

And if the established pillars of the fashion industry won’t change, I know a group of beautiful, smart, wonderful girls who will change it for them.

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2 comments

  1. Small breasts were never celebrated when I was a girl – not least where I lived anyway – in fact girls with small breasts hated their flat chests and looked at my much larger waps with envy. But far from making me feel good, I felt mine were *too* big, largely because I was made to feel as if I was a walking pair of boobs on legs far too much. This was underscored by the fact that I was otherwise quite thin, so finding clothes that fitted was a nightmare. Every top I bought, I had to adjust and re-sew the straps and as for tee shirts, forget it: it just wasn’t possible. So as a result my cleavage was hanging out whether I wanted it to or not. I felt sexualised far too young, though I didn’t have the words to express it at the time. Now my boobs are even bigger after children and whenever I express a desire to have them reduced (I will), women always say, “Oh no, you can’t! You’re so lucky! People pay good money for those!” Backache and shoulderache? Men looking down your top? Weird.

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