My Tits Throughout The Ages

If Kate Middleton can belong on the Exposed Tits list, then surely any of us could be next. Here's the detailed documentation of mine to save time...
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If Kate Middleton can belong on the Exposed Tits list, then surely any of us could be next. Here's the detailed documentation of mine to save time...

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This article originally appeared on Work In Prowess

We’ve been hearing a lot about Tits lately. They’ve been popping up (out?) in the news a lot over the last couple of weeks, and they seem to have taken a whole new place in the media. Tits are no longer very titillating, but things that merely appear with bumbling, well-meaning ferocity – like John Candy in Home Alone 1. What are you doing there, John Candy? Why are you in the airport, blithely offering Kevin McAllister’s mum a ride in your weird polka van?

Previously, the exposed Tit belonged to a very specific kind of person. That person has always been some variation of the actress Blake Lively. Sexy actress? Check. No real sense of credibility? Check. Starring role in the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2? Check. God, I wonder when Blake Lively’s tit-pics are going to get here. Oh here they are! Come on in, titpics. We’ve made up the spare room for you and everything.

When topless pictures of Blake Lively were leaked to the press, something about it seemed appropriate. She was the kind of person we expected to have exposed Tits, and there she was, having them. But lately, something strange has been happening. People we didn’t expect to have naked breasts have been… having them. Last week, the geeky Newsroom actress Alison Pill accidentally tweeted a picture of her baps, which she then followed with a mortified “Yeah, that picture happened.” Perhaps more topically, Kate Middleton had the audacity to take off her bikini top on holidays, the saucy regal mare. The sighting, published by the soon-to-be-defunct-after-being-sodomised-by-legal-fees French Closer magazine, caused outrage amongst women everywhere.

Whether it was to indulge in some beachside bohemia, or to avoid chunky-looking tan lines, almost everyone has taken off their bikini top at one stage or another. Unfortunately, this decision to expose ones Tits on holidays is usually followed by a troupe of Spanish builders rounding a corner moments later, when you are then forced to scrabble for a bit of Ice Lolly wrapper to cover your unmentionables. We feel solidarity towards Kate. To her, the world is now made up of 7 billion Spanish builders. We cradled our Tits sorrowfully, knowing that they were no longer living in a safe world. If Kate Middleton and Alison Pill can belong on the Exposed Tits list, then surely any of us could be next.

So, rather than wake up one morning to find that my Tits have been subject to the whims of a French voyeur, I have decided to document them here instead.

AGED 12

bra2

My two best friends have been blessed with absolutely roaring pairs of Tits. They also have pubes, but I’m not really interested in those. The Tits issue is ultimately a betrayal on their part, and I half suspect that this plan was cooked up during a sleepover that I wasn’t invited to. I watch them progress from training bra to proper underwiring in a matter of weeks. I, however, still look like the youngest Hanson brother. It is around this time that I decide to enter my obligatory Audrey Hepburn phase.

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AGED 13

Still nothing. I now have to listen to my friends talk about boys trying to ‘top’ them at discos. I have never been ‘topped’, mainly because there is nothing to ‘top’. My friends say that I am lucky, and that being ‘topped’ is actually a from of sexual harassment. I still feel like they’re gloating.

AGED 14

Nothing. Nipples bigger, maybe? Watching Roman Holiday a lot.

AGED 15

Nada. Jesus, this is a bit like hitting the middle of The Diary of Anne Frank. When you’re like, oh, ok. Is the whole book just going to be her in an attic then?

AGED 16

first bra

Thrillingly, stuff is happening. Overnight, I have gone from a troubling A to a robust C. I go to New Look and buy my first sexybra. It is red. I pretend to be embarrassed when my brother says “What the fuck are those?” over breakfast. I make a grandiose display by wearing high necked jumpers and fold my arms over them, knowing that this attempt to ‘cover’ is drawing more focus.

AGES 17 – 20

My bra size changes with the tides, often thundering forward, while just as often retreating back. I balloon from C to E, then back down to B again. Every fortnight I need to buy a new bra. My boobs are no longer the object of my affections, but an expensive genetic habit, like alcoholism, or twins.

AGES 21+

I am Caroline, your chesty friend. My identifier has become “the one with The Tits”, and I have reached a stage where I am OK with that. The TV show Mad Men is instrumental to my self esteem. Suddenly everything I do – like eating crisps or buying clothes – is not me eating crisps or buying clothes, but me Celebrating My Curves. As I write this, I am celebrating my curves, merely by having a biscuit on my desk and having Tits at the same time. I feebly talk about losing weight, whereupon my boyfriend will proclaim “But you’ll lose The Boobs!”

Yes, I think. Musn’t lose The Boobs. I finish my sandwich.

Life is good.