It is a truth universally acknowledged that women who’ve been blessed by the boob fairy are considered to be the sexiest, most beautiful creatures in existence. Girls have been taught from a young age that if they’ve got ‘em, flaunt ‘em. And if they don’t… well, balled up tissues and socks can help. In middle and high school, no one wanted to be flat as a board. Rather, most girls wish for nothing more than to be stacked like Marilyn Monroe.

However, what happens when the boob fairy was maybe a little too generous? Heck, generous may be an understatement. What if, when she was floating and mulling over you, she used up her entire quota of the day to fill out your once perky, preteen tits? Her magic boob dust was dumped, not sprinkled. Next thing you know, you’re thirteen years old with a rack like Jessica Rabbit. Sounds like the total package, right?

Sure! That is, until, you realize that you can’t buy your bras at Walmart or Target or even from dear old Vicky. The poor sales girls look at your massive knockers and think, “Wow, can you really get a boob job at 12?” while they smile and hand you grandma bra after grandma bra.

Now you’re swimming in a sea of beige. Because God-forbid a girl, under the age of 62 and built like an exaggerated hourglass, wear anything remotely sexy? A few years later, you find a few websites that shockingly carry your size… or so they say. You only have to sell a kidney or two to purchase said miracle bra, but it’s a small price to pay to feel pretty. Beauty is pain, even for your debit card.

So, you go on with ordering bras with pinching underwires and digging straps. Beauty is pain, beauty is pain, beauty is pain, you constantly remind yourself over and over until the mantra loses it’s meaning. It doesn’t matter though. You’ve come to accept that you’ll never fit in those teeny tiny, lacy bras that all of your friends love so much. The thought of bandeaus and bralettes supporting your girls is laughable. Hell, pretty much anything made of lace or mesh keeping you locked and loaded, is laughable. After a while, you’ve completely resigned yourself to your fate and start half heartedly considering a breast reduction.

But here’s the kicker, you love your body. Yes, you complain and joke about what it’s like to be a young, DD+ woman. And yes, the struggle is very real. But at the same time, you love your girls. Because they’re part of what make you, you. Like so many things in this world, they’re frustrating but beautiful. On top of that, the fact of the matter is that you come from a long line of bombshells. Being a big breasted woman is part of your heritage. So why in the world would you ever want to change? You are beautiful. Your body is beautiful. So who cares if you don’t fit the Victoria’s Secret mold? You are still a sexy, confident woman. Just with a lot more boobage.

Side note: If you're a busty girl like me, check out Busty Girl Comics for hilarious comics like the ones above.