Skip to main content

My Glorious Breasts

8/8/2008: The Day of Beauty and Light

I have stated many times that I was a boobless virgin in high school. Once I lost my virginity I was just boobless and diseased. I tried everything possible to make it seem like I had some semblance of breast tissue. I wore two bras, I put chicken cutlets in my too big bras, I wore padded camis, and even padded bra inserts. Nothing helped or even made an impact. The first two guys I slept with never even saw nipple out of sheer fear. I was terrified that once the bra came off and the 10 year old boy boobs came out they would think that had been set up on "To Catch a Predator". Kate Hudson and Keira Knightly have the smallest celebrity boobies I can think of and both of those flat chested actresses looked like Pamela Anderson in comparison to me.

When I was growing up and waiting impatiently for puberty to hit me I repeatedly told my mother and any doctor that would listen that the only reason I wanted to see blood leak from my hoo-ha is so I could get boobs. Not huge Kate Upton boobs, but normal everyday B or C cups. My sister and mother both have small tits, so I was never expecting to wake up one day and see two watermelons covered in skin. I just wanted to see my nipples raised off of my chest a little. Then puberty finally happened and I ended up with barely any blood, no boobs, and tons of hair everywhere. I should not have been surprised by the yeti growing around my vagina since I am Arab and Jewish, but it was such a bummer. I asked for breast implants any chance I got. Christmas, Hanukkah, Birthdays, and Graduation all came and went and I still had the chest of an infant.

My family claimed that they would grow. Liars. They claimed that my boobs were fine and no one noticed. Liars. They said that I didn't need boobs, my face and ass were enough. Semi-true, but I still needed boobs. I did not want boobs because I thought that guys wouldn't like me or to work in the porn industry. I wanted them so I could be proportionate. I was a 34AAA, which basically equates to bra companies making up a size so women like me do not have to wear training bras from the Limited Too. When I went swimsuit shopping I had to buy a XS top and a Medium bottom. I was not pear shaped, I was square shaped with a huge ass tacked on.

As I got older and sicker I became more determined then ever to enhance my ta-tas. My parents, who pay for everything, would not budge on helping me. If I wanted to have an unnecessary surgery for a problem that only I cared about I could pay for it. So I worked doubles and overtime and saved up $6,000 to have my surgery. I may not have picked the most ideal time to do so, considering my colon was failing and I had already been hospitalized multiple times the same year, but reason be damned.

The surgery day came and when I woke up in excruciating pain with an elephant on my chest I could not have been happier. That elephant was in the form of gorgeous new C cups and I could finally wear a bra from Victoria's Secret. I was ecstatic and extremely unwell. I spent the next two months in a hospital bed massaging my boobs because once I was out and healthy I wanted to make sure they were the best, most authentic fake boobies in all the land.

When I returned to college the next year, I was a whole new woman and I wanted to show the world who I had become. I picked possibly the worst way in doing so, seeing as I thought it was appropriate to flash anyone that wanted to see my fake titties. Turns out most drunk people in college not only want to see them, but also want to lick, motorboat, jiggle, and massage them. I got to second base with half of Kent State my first semester back. I didn't care though, I was happy and wanted to celebrate!

I have no regrets on how I got them or what I did with them after. I kiss them goodnight, I tell them when they are having a good day, and give them encouragement when they have a big night out. I do not put them in bra jail unless it is necessary and I always free them the minute it is allowed. My family and I toast them each year on their anniversary 8/8/2008, we celebrate the joyous day they came into our lives. Living with an incurable disease is hard, but having incredible breasts makes it just a tiny bit easier.

Look at those babies!!! Wowza!
Boobless and Strange


Popular posts from this blog

I'm back

I've lost so many months. I know that sounds odd. How can someone lose months? Easily, time flies when you are chronically ill. I know that sounds odd.
Hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, on and on until one day you realize it's March and you have been hospital sick since October. What the actual flying fuck? I missed winter again. That's twice in 3 years. I lost summer before that...5 years ago.
5 years ago I had to give up my dreams, quit my job, and start contemplating Plan B. I didn't know what the hell Plan B was (my plan, not the pill...phew, what a lifesaver in college). Now, I'm sitting here trying to figure out what Plan F could possibly entail and I can't believe how many seasons I've lost.
I've been sick since I was 10. For years I was wrapped in a blanket in the basement watching Charmed and Sabrina (I thought I was a witch for awhile, not Wiccan, a real magical witch who could control waves. It was a rough time.) At 16 came the blee…

Failure is not an Option

Friday afternoon- sitting in the passenger side of mom's red infiniti sports car on the way to Wegman's. We had just left my 2 1/2 hour long allergy appointment, I called my GI doctor's nurse.

"Hello. This is Gabrielle Rosenfeld. I am returning your call"

"Hi, Ms. Rosenfeld. We got your blood work back and I can't really say anything until a doctor looks at them, but, well..."

(5 minute conversation about my GI doctor's upcoming wedding and then back to business)

"I can't say anything right now. but the Humira levels and antibodies. It's nothing bad. Don't concern yourself. I will tell you on Monday or Tuesday, once they have a chance to read them."

"Great. Thanks."

(After 14 years, you know where this is heading...your body struck again. You know that all the hope and positive thinking in the fucking verse won't change your body. You know that whenever you try to get healthy your body goes on the defensive. {In…


On Thursday I went numb. On Friday I went crazy. They stole my humor.  24 hours without a word from a doctor, the last one I saw told me that he didn't think I was having a stroke, but he'll go talk to his attendings and be back in a couple hours. 24 hours nurses and techs tried to get ahold of a doctor and each time they were dismissed and ignored. 24 hours I sat in a hospital bed wondering what I had done to deserve this, what I had done to be treated like a divorcee begging for her husband to come home and explain why. All I wanted was to talk and ask them a question, all I wanted was to be treated like an equal. They may have spent half their life in medical school, but I spent half my life fighting this disease. We are both experts in the field of Crohns.

My last hospitalization in November and December was two parts I've broken down into parts A and B. I agreed to be admitted to the hospital, begrudgingly, because I had no appetite or thirst. I was in excruciating pai…