A Small-Chested’s Experience When Buying Upper Undies

Warning: May contain adult contents, LOL. Just kidding.

Aside from heights and horror movies, one of my terrors include going to the supermarket, specifically to the underwear section, to buy bras. That’s right. As ridiculous as it may seem, this fright has long been with me ever since I entered college. You see, I belong to the few population of very small chested girls. Yah, flat-chested got a category, and I’m at the bottom of it.

Ever since I aged 12, the both of them never really grew. Well, none that I’ve noticed of. And while about ¾ of the girls’ population my age have been undergoing to so much body changes caused by puberty, my mammary gland has kept doing a bad job keeping up. Puberty hates me.

Anyway, I never really paid attention whether they’re growing or not. When I was in high school I was so focused on being so competitive and winning the competitions I have outside of school that my physique never once bothered me. I kept telling myself that it’s okay if my body is not yet that well-developed, I’m still young. Besides, I don’t want to be one of those girls who keep on minding how they look. They’re shallow. Well, that was my mindset back then. Don’t judge me, I was 15. Lol. So I continued digging on my history books to study.

What’s inside is more important than what is outside.

That remained my comfort quote to ease the anxiety I have at the back of my mind. But it didn’t last long.

When I entered college at 16, I noticed that my other classmates were already well-developed. And even though strangers might judge most of them for having such immature attitudes at times, puberty didn’t miss them. Puberty has definitely hit most of the girls in our class (not minding the height). It didn’t bother me though. At first.

But few of my friends noticed the peculiarity of my upper body physique. They’re too small. Like really small. They could belong to some Grade 5 student.

And that was when I noticed it too.

And it started to bother me.

They’re so flat. I knew some girls who were flat-chested, but not this flat-chested.

Why were they not growing? They wouldn’t even pass for an A-cup.

The people in my circle kept mocking me for my chest. Because they’re too small. Because I’m too flat-chested. College girls aren’t supposed to be this flat.

Of course, I’m not an idiot to not know the reason why I have such chest size. I’ve done my research about the matter and have learned the scientific explanation behind it. I’ve also asked both of my genetic providers’ sides about their history, and it’s proven and tested that most lass in both my family’s sides were small chested until they reached the age of adulthood, gained some pounds, or had children.

But the mocks never stopped coming.

Don’t wear bras. They’re like raisins. Flat-chested. Your soon-to-be husband’s going to leave you for that.

They’ve been telling me a lot of insulting jokes (which they deemed funny just for themselves) to the point that I would silently cry at night. That’s right. If you’re reading this. But for the information of those people who made fun of me for this matter, I’m afraid to say that you have been mocked too. At the back of my mind. And it was much worse than what you threw at me.

But I left it at that. I kept silent, only throwing rhetoric when I couldn’t take it anymore. After all, it is a moral sin to stoop down to other’s incapacities.

Nevertheless, you were forgiven since I wasn’t not as low quality of a person to not forgive people for their mishaps.

Yet, even though I got rid of the detestation I got for hearing those teasing, my apprehension never really went away.

Especially the “Your soon-to-be-husband’s going to leave you for that.”

It left a mark on me.

An insecurity.

Even a fear, maybe?

That what I could give may not be enough.

But I comfort myself with reasoning that it is better this way so I could really find someone who’s not into physical aspects.

Okay, it feels really weird to talk about this.

Anyway, ever since then I have been terrorized of going to the mall to buy my upper inner garments. I mean, yes I could privately order from our neighbor that’s an Avon dealer, but going to the supermarket to buy your underwear are definitely much cheaper because there are a lot to choose from. And I’m telling you, I’d rather be ashamed of buying them than spend extra cash.

What’s funny is that, every time I go to the supermarket with my mom to buy such, I keep on thinking weird scenarios inside my head.

Sometimes, I imagine that person is saying that he loves me not for my physical appearance.

But most of the time, I imagine being ashamed to that person.

Yet, the imaginations do not last long because in time, some lady would look at me and my chest and the upper underwear that I’m holding, probably thinking that I got the wrong cup size.

Anyway, I’m still hoping that they still grow.


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