felt like a core part of my identity, their development having gone hand in hand with my coming of age as a woman. I was only 11 when my breasts started to develop, and by the end of sixth grade, I wore a full C cup.
By middle school's end, I'd officially sized out of maximum though I shamefully continued shoving my chest into them for years after the fact.
I didn’t understand larger sizes existed for at least another ten years. At my largest, I believe I wore somewhere around a .
And I hated the size of my breasts, and the unwanted attention they got me, more than anything.I may have been a literal child, but I was constantly tormented, bullied, , and sexually harassed for “being the girl with big boobs"—both by my peers at school and much older men in public.
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