My Lopsided Boobies No Longer Stop Me From Having Fun

When I was 19 or 20, I desperately sought love. I thought "love" meant stability, support, attraction. I thought "love" was the magic potion to make all my problems and worries go away.

I believed guys wouldn't consider getting to the "love" part without sex.

When I went out, I colored my lips a deep red, painted my nails, shaved my bikini line, waxed my eyebrows and mustache, and made sure my big and frizzy-wavy hair was as perfect as I could get it.

Middle age is an appropriate time to reflect on our growth. I turned 43 last summer. In 2021, I began exploring my sexuality and body image.

I finally fell in love with my body.

***

When I was in college in the mid-1990s and looked in the mirror, I saw a young woman who wasn't a "10," who didn't have "good enough" boobs, whose thighs were too big. A kid told me in 9th grade, "How can you be so skinny and have jiggly thigh fat?" I was under 100 pounds. It got in my head.

When I was 12, my breasts began to develop unevenly, the left one staying flat while the right one grew. I was mortified. There was nothing I could do besides wear a bra and stuff toilet paper in the left side.

When I went swimming every Wednesday with my 7th grade class, I couldn't camouflage the lopsidedness with a bra and toilet paper. I loved being in the water, where my boobs were hidden, but being in the locker room was an embarrassment; I spent shower time hunched over, trying to hide my body.

Carrie had nice, big boobs. The other kids were flat or developing at more or less the same rate. How would I ever land a guy with my flawed body?

***

I met my best friend, June*, in AP (Advanced Placement) English during our senior year of high school. She was large and boisterous; extroverted and confident in spite of her "imperfect" weight. She was also smart, creative, and adventurous.

June took me under her wing and made my last year of high school amazing. Together, we cut class, I smoked cigarettes, and we read poems at Love Lite's open mic night.

After high school, I went from graduating a year early (not because of genius grades, but because I figured out how to game the system) to the large state university in my hometown. June went to beauty school. She practiced on me. I'm a natural brunette with brown eyes and a yellow-pinkish skin tone. We tried out brown, black, red, and even blonde hair dye. The blonde was weird and I have no evidence of the week I kept it.

June taught me how to put on makeup, tame my frizzy-wavy hair, and let go of my anxiety. In high school, we were mostly "good kids," not partying or dating. Neither of us went to prom; instead, we had our own private prom party night with a few other girls. It was fun, but I wished someone had asked me out. I was painfully shy, so I hadn't even considered asking out a guy. It was a stretch for me to talk to a boy without turning bright red, especially one I had a crush on.

***

After high school, we were ready to explore. We both wanted a boyfriend and to experience making out and having sex. She was more adventurous than me. June's extroversion plus our mutual horniness led us to many social situations where we tried to pick up guys.

Instead of spending time thinking about my personal career or spiritual growth trajectory, I went out to bars, pool halls, and strangers' apartments with June.

We started smoking pot. One evening, we went over to some random guy's apartment. I don't remember how we met him. In the living room, porn was playing. "Monica Lewinski" was bent in front of "Bill Clinton." I watched, partly because it was so weird. The buxom beauties and long dongs confirmed my belief that guys want women to have "perfect" bodies.

Every time I went out, I wanted to make out. I had my eyes on someone that evening, but he wasn't interested. June was successfully flirting with another guy. Someone suggested we go skinnydip in the apartment pool.

I couldn't. They'd all see my weird boobs.

On the dreaded walk outside, I made a last-minute decision to jump into the pool with all my clothes on--jeans and a t-shirt. It felt terrible. Water filled up my pants' legs. The group laughed at my odd choice and moved on. When it was time to get out, I barely made it. The jeans were weighing me down.

Out of the pool, I refused to peel off my clothes, claiming the summer night would dry me off. I was an uncomfortable, embarrassed mess with the female version of "blue balls." June went off with a guy for a while. I felt relief when we finally left.

***

In 1999, I lost my virginity to my first boyfriend. It got serious, but only lasted for a year. I dated a few guys after that, with varying levels of seriousness. I went on a few blind dates and brief dates in the interim. One guy told me I was "the weirdest looking woman he'd ever seen." Thanks, Patrick. The same guy decided to make a move and undo the top of my dress. He took one look at my uneven breasts and changed his mind about making out. Again, I was embarrassed and ashamed of my flawed body.

Why couldn't I be normal? Then I could trade sex for love.

In 2001, I met David. We've been married for 19 years. I met David at a party. From the edge of a swanky basement addition, I spied him in the middle of the room, sitting by a pool table, observing all the action.

He wore a white t-shirt, jeans, and converse shoes. His hair was cut short and he wore glasses. My hair was in a pixie cut and my lips were painted red. I was ready to meet someone. When I saw David, I practically drooled.

After some persuading, he let me flirt with him. We've been together ever since. David never made mean comments about my breasts. He seemed to like them, but I worried he'd decide to look for someone with better boobs. I was jealous. My insecurity plagued the first part of our marriage.

One day, I finally admitted I was worried he didn't like my breasts. He assured me he did. He said, "Your boobs are perfect. I get to play with two different sizes." It was exactly what I needed to hear.

***

Marrying someone who finds you beautiful is a wonderful thing. I didn't realize how wonderful until I reached my 40s and he still finds me beautiful.

I decided to believe him. I looked at my naked body. We've had two kids together. I have a c-section scar. My tummy makes a jeans muffin top. My boobs are bigger and still lopsided. My thighs and butt are larger. I'm a size 10/12 and curvy. I'm 5'6" and tend to weigh between 135-150 pounds.

When I allowed myself to seek my own beauty, it appeared. As my body image grew healthier, my self-esteem grew too. Remnants of jealousy dropped away. In 2021, our marriage grew healthier. It all points back to when I began trusting my husband that I. am. beautiful.

***

For my 43rd birthday, I didn't have any concrete plans. My birthday is in July. One of my friends found out my birthday was on the day of a clothing swap she'd be attending. She invited me to go--and to go skinnydipping afterward--to celebrate my birthday.

I hesitated briefly. Then, I grinned and said, "Yes!"

With my friend and another woman, we headed out after the clothing swap to Lake Keystone. We made our way through multitudinous spider webs. Insects glowed bright yellow along the path. The full moon shone. Music from a party wafted over the water. We sat on craggy rocks and began to disrobe.

At the clothing swap, I'd dipped my toes into embracing my lopsided chest. We changed out of clothes in the living room in front of a large mirror. I took off my bra to try on a bralette. No one grimaced. The more comfortable I was in my body, the more boisterous I became. I delighted in showing off my body to a roomful of women. I took in our goddess-like beauty. These women were like me. We embraced our curves, our "flaws." We laughed together and became even more beautiful.

***

After the clothes swap, in front of my friends and the light of the moon, I took off all my clothes and stood naked, in nature, on my birthday. It was the best birthday gift. One woman is lythe and has a traditionally perfect body. She's a bit of an exhibitionist. The other woman is goddess-shaped--tall, with large breasts and a belly. She's birthed four children.

This night, on my 43rd birthday, I saw beautiful women clearly for the first time.

What I didn't see were cosmetically perfect airbrushed movie star women. I saw women with a mole here, a grey streak there, a beautiful smile, an inner glow shining outward.

At the clothing swap and skinnydipping, I saw women who know our own beauty, power, and joy.

On my 43rd birthday, I embraced my whole body, mind, and spirit. I drank in beauty, power, and joy through moonlight, my friends, and nature. I discovered the combination that drives my creativity.

The water was magic. Immersed, I felt like I was earning a rite of passage. I acknowledged and expressed gratitude for the discoveries I'd made from January to July. Floating on my back, I let the water rush into my ears. It buoyed me. The moon powered my existence.

When we finally headed home, through the brambles, spiderwebs, and glowing insects, the night was alive. Magnified nature sounds filled the warm air. We thanked the moon. We thanked each other.

That night, something alchemical happened with the water, the moon, nature, my women friends, and my sense of self.

Under the moonlight, I was birthed into my beauty. Creation and connection combine into magnificent beauty. The world is ready for this kind of beauty.

***