The Measure of a Woman

by RedSonja

BBC America recently aired a show called My Small Breasts and Me. Since my husband, KarateMonkey, is always interested in a show about breasts, for research purposes, and I was curious to see what they had to say, we decided to tune in.

Being a woman, I am fairly familiar with breasts. Mostly my own, as I am a straight girl, but I have observed many other sets between sports, theater, and modern entertainment. I am aware that many would consider me fortunate, as I am "well endowed"—48 DD at the moment. (In the interest of full disclosure, in my skinny high school days I was more like a 34 B...) But I must admit to being interested in "how the other half lives."

MSBaM covered 3 women—young, articulate, and (in their eyes) flat-chested. They were all miserable; one woman felt that clients she made presentations to viewed her as "pre-pubescent." Another, a single mother of two, was so self-conscious that she had broken down into tears during a trip to the corner store. A third was ashamed when out with friends at the beach, crossing her arms across her chest while they analyzed celebrity breasts in a magazine.

This show treated these women quite sympathetically; there was almost no voiceover work, and each woman's approach to solving her perceived problem was treated without judgment. One woman used a suction machine that literally sucked on her breasts (not nearly as fun as it sounds!) for 11 hours a day. She also began taking some herbs that some people think mimic puberty.

The woman who hated going to the beach with her friends was exploring surgery as an option. She started out by looking into funding for her surgery, and discovered a website (My Free Implants, and no, I won't link to it) that allows men (and presumably women) to donate money to specific women to fund their boob jobs. In return, the men get "personalized videos, pictures, and messages" from the women. More on the utter creepiness of this later…. She also met with a woman who had raised enough money for her surgery on this website, and then watched the surgery being performed. Interestingly enough, this person actually requested that the surgery cause her breasts to look artificial.

My favorite approach was the mother of two, who chose to do phototherapy. In it, the photographer takes pictures of the individual in an effort to give them an objective perspective on themselves. This photographer in particular, Ellen Fisher Turk, did a lot of work with rape victims, cancer survivors, and individuals with eating disorders.

Results were mixed. The woman using the herbs and suctioning had a falling-out with her boyfriend. She wasn't sure if it was because the herbs she was taking were making her irritable, or if she was giving herself permission to be cranky because of them. She had gotten some results, going from an A to a C cup, but saw a doctor who cautioned her that the change might not be permanent.

The woman looking into surgery chose not to have it done. She did spend some time walking around town with "breasts" made out of rice and pantyhose, and enjoyed the extra attention that she received.

The woman who chose to do phototherapy was probably the most successful. She found that, after looking at her pictures several times, she was able to see more about herself than just her breasts. The next scene was of her going to a waterpark with her two children, actually enjoying herself. It brought tears to my eyes.

There were several things in this show that really struck me. One was the obsession with breasts. While I jokingly referred to KarateMonkey's breast-friendly tendencies, it's certainly true that as a society, we are fixated on them. I imagine most of the women reading this remember being in middle school and the nearly constant analysis of breasts —whether your own or someone else's. And who can forget the changing in the locker room, trying to put your shirt on without showing ANYTHING!!

We learn from an early age that breasts are dirty, to be covered up—and simultaneously that they can (and should) be used as a tool, to get what we want. What nobody ever straightforwardly points out to girls is: "You know what? They're YOURS. Do what you want with them. Enjoy them. Let men touch them or not. Show them off or not. They ARE NOT YOU, nor are you them. They are just another part of the whole you, no more important than any other corporeal parts, and less important than most of the intangibles."

We are socialized to obsess about breasts. Are they real? Are they fake? Are they even? Can you see too much? How about not enough? Better wear a bra, ladies, or they'll sag when you're old! Here, have some padding! Here, have some more! Better yet, just pay us a gajillion dollars, and we'll jam some permanent padding in there for you!

Which leads me back to My Free Implants—I'm all for consenting adults doing what consenting adults want to do, but this website is sheer exploitation and abasement. Women are basically groveling, trying to be the hottest or whatever it takes to get the "donors" to fork over the money. And I suspect that in the mind of most of the women on the website, this is a crucial thing—to have "normal" breasts. The website plays on the insecurity that our society has fostered; that with small boobs, you can’t be sexy. And it's reprehensible.

We've gotten so wrapped up in the sexualization of breasts that we can't see the women for the tits. Rather than letting them be one facet of our sexuality and femininity, they have become the very symbol of our sex. And the result of that is women like those in the show—who feel that, because their breasts deviate from some imaginary norm, they are less than. It makes them do things like attach suction units to their chests for 11 hours a day, or flirt with strangers in order to get money to pay for breast augmentation, just to be more. But what they're lacking isn't breasts, and all the pumping and the surgery in the world won't fix what's broke.

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That is all for small breasts. In a potential next installment, I'll review My Large Breasts and Me, also on BBC.


[As a long time reader, but first time writer, RedSonja is finding that this blogging thing is HARD. She splits her time between her devoted and adorably geeky husband KarateMonkey, a ridiculous number of animals in the house, and feeding her video game and reading addictions. She pines for the day when she can do what she loves to do, study animal behavior, rather than what she currently does, which is study animal eliminiation. She sold her soul years ago for a good beer and a plate of cheese fries, and hasn't missed it for a second.]