I hate when people point out that I have big ones. Obviously, I’m aware; they are on my body after all.
Although, I cannot blame my kids for this body condition; unlike many other things that are going wrong with my body such as my Tom Selleck Mustache, gray hair and fine lines/wrinkles, my big ones have been… well, big, for quite some time. I can even recall people speaking, often in hushed voices, about my big ones since I was in my early teens.
At this point, I can’t even tell you their exact size. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to know. My big ones cause certain people to stare, look longer than I feel is really necessary, and have been the centerpiece of some uncomfortable situations. On one occasion, someone called an “associate” over to take a look. How awkward! Are my big ones that noteworthy? Even after I had my children, my big ones have been referred to as:
- Well above average
- Much more voluminous than expected
There really isn’t anything I can do about it now. They look large whether I’m wearing a turtleneck or a V-Cut. My big ones appear massive in any kind of light. Since I can’t attribute this to pregnancy/hormones/nursing, I guess it could have a genetic link. At this point, even after diet and exercise, they remain over-sized, and I suppose the only way to reduce their girth would be through surgery.
“Here we go again,” I thought. Today, upon meeting a doctor for the first time, he even took an extra long look. “I know this may feel a bit awkward, but hold still just a moment longer,” he said as he studied my big ones. My face felt flushed and I felt more than just a little awkward as this so called ‘doctor’ examined my big ones oh so thoroughly. I would have assumed that since he was a doctor (and a man of his age), he would have seen his fair share of big ones, and wouldn’t need to hold such a lingering glance at mine. Finally, his exam concluded but not before he gently rubbed all over them. This motion actually made me feel nauseous for a moment.
“I should ask to see this guys diploma,” I thought. “Was such a comprehensive rub-down of my big ones really that necessary? This guy probably could have made a diagnosis just by looking at me. He probably gets some sick pleasure from getting all up on someone’s big ones like that,” I silently contemplated. “This guy’s first name could be ‘Doctor’ for all I know. I wonder where he went to medical school…” but then my inner dialogue was cut short.
“There,” he said pulling his hands away, “you’re all finished.”
“Great,” I said looking at the ‘Doctor’ suspiciously.
“We’ll get the results of your throat culture in a few minutes. Has anyone ever told you that you should have had your tonsils out a long time ago?” he questioned. “They are some of the biggest ones I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s been mentioned once or twice,” I casually replied.