Guest blog: The love story between me and my breasts

I’m so excited about this week’s guest blog, because it’s a gorgeous exploration of the relationship between the guest blogger and her body, specifically her breasts. Please welcome Jannette Davies, from Scarlet Ladies Talk.

Jannette co-founded Scarlet Ladies in February 2015, and together with her co-founder Sarah Beilfuss, she runs events where women can openly discuss and explore their sexuality and bodies – and dispel a few myths along the way. Their events have got lots of people talking, and they sound like a lot of fun. Their next event is Body Bliss – a day-long retreat in London aimed at helping you explore – and hopefully fall in love with – your body.

Her story is personal, funny and relatable: all the things I like best.

Me and my breasts: the love story

I have breasts, huge breasts. There I said it. The thoughts that may be going through your head right now could be ‘okkkkkaaaaaayyyyyy’ or ‘ that is great’ or ‘let’s see where this is going.’ Well if my inner Dynamo is correct and those thoughts went through your head, here is where I am going: my breasts are one of my biggest hangups but yet I wouldn’t swap them for anything else. Because why the fuck should I?

My breast journey started 21 years ago (wow that seems so long typing it) when my mother didn’t understand why the boil in my chest just wasn’t disappearing. So after a trip to the doctor we got the confirmation ‘Your daughter has started developing breasts – it is not a boil Mrs Davies.’ Bless my mum, for weeks we spent time applying warm flannel over my boil to help ease them out only to find out what she was helping to ease out was breasts.

By the time I reached the tender age of 13, where all my friends were buying their first bras I was shopping in Marks and Spencer for my hand bags bras. During this time I realised that for many boys calling me by my birth name was not a necessity but ‘The girl with the breasts’, ‘breasts’ or ‘the girl with the body’ was my new name. This is where the insecurity started, not from the girls in primary school laughing at my breasts, but from the fact that my identity was my breasts.

I was the faceless girl with tits.

This of course continued, and whilst I hated the fact that my face was invisible to boys, I actually embraced my over-developed self. My breasts became a huge part of me and for some strange reason other people’s love for my breasts helped grow my love for my breasts.

Fast forward to 18, going in to Marks and Spencer and hearing this: ‘I am sorry, but we do not stock your bra size here, you have outgrown us.’ This was my first break, I cried for days because all I could think of was that soon I would be using my bed sheets to hold my breasts to prevent them turning into slippers. You see, this was the first realisation that I actually have large breasts. Although I was the faceless girl with tits I never completely understood what the big deal was. Yes, they were big but when I looked in the mirror they were normal. To me my 30GG blended well with my body. Friends made jokes asking how I managed to stand up, and whilst I laughed I never got the joke completely.

Weirdly enough, as a young woman who has spent most of her teenage years dieting, my body during sex was not much of an issue. Sex was a way for me to release myself from pressures and I guess body issues fell in this bracket. Due to my distorted vision of myself I actually embraced my breasts and embraced the majority of my body. This era in my life was the time I was my most body confident. Although they were big they were a good big, not too big to be charged with involuntary manslaughter, but still great for a good tit wank. Wow, did my breasts save me from the exhausted jaws and retired-for-the-night pussy.

However, my breasts continued to grow. Now at a cup size K my breasts are a nuisance but I still love them. Being on top should be a pleasurable experience, however for me there’s a concern that my over large breasts are just a bit too low or are swinging way too much. Rather than enjoying the sensation I am peeping to check two things – the pulse of my partner and to make sure he is not doing rounds with my breasts (because he is going down).

When having sex with a guy for the first time my breasts are the last thing I want to expose, so of course my bra is the last thing to come off. However, most guys are normally making a beeline straight for them. Unlike my 18 year old self I now believe my breasts look better in clothes. I can dress them up or down, emphasise them or even hide them as I please. But being naked means being exposed. Allowing someone else to see all the things I hate and love about my breasts.

What must he be thinking? All thoughts and feelings running through my head, imagining the worst and the best. Maybe he likes them. Yes. No? Why the fuck is he staring?

For years my breasts and I have had an unhealthy love story: battles, changing emotions, obsession, hate and love. What’s a girl gotta do? They are mine and just like my changing personality and mood my breasts have their own identity and will continuously change.

But like any true love the only thing you can do is accept the changes and grow old together.

If you’d like to fall in love with your body, check out Scarlet Ladies Body Bliss Retreat which is happening on the 18th June (not long now, so be quick if you’d like a ticket!). Or check out some of their other events (I’ll almost certainly be at their fetish discussion during Sexhibition weekend).

I’ve never posted a sponsored guest blog before – this is the first one (I’m trying a new thing). I wanted to do it with Jannette because she had such great ideas for blog posts, and Scarlet Ladies’ mission of getting more people talking about sex couldn’t be more up my street. Please do check out their website via the links above and follow them on Twitter. They’ve also just released a free ebook – Scarlet Ladies Guide To Solo Sex – which has lots of unique masturbation tips from experts. 


  • J says:

    Ah yes. I remember when my niece told a friend to find me in a big crowd; “just find the girl with the really big breasts”. And the mix of pride and annoyance I felt when she told me. Thank you for writing this, my experiences are very similar ;-)

  • Tom says:

    “Swinging way too much” – I know what all those words mean, but in combination they are incomprehensible to me.

    Big or little, firm or swingy, round or pointy, breasts are always fascinating!

  • Emsy says:

    As a 28M, I understand the struggle of big boobs. I’ve had men come up to me, stare at my chest, and drool out ‘Nice to meet you both,’ and have nearly knocked myself out running for a train… I tried for years to hide them in baggy tops, minimiser bras (which do f*uck all, just saying) or by keeping my arms folded all day.
    Now I’ve given up the unequal struggle, and enjoy the perks they offer. No more parking tickets!

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