My Cups Runneth Over...

My Cups Runneth Over…

Wow. You are very subtle.

Not really, I know you know there is marinara on my right breast.  Just above the chocolate stain from last week. And I know you know I know you looked at it and can’t seem to stop looking at it.

I am not a slob.

This is how I am forced to roll.

I can’t eat chips and salsa like the rest of you.  You, who accidentally slop Picante sauce on your slacks.  Nothing stands between your dribble and the napkin folded neatly in your lap.  It’s a straight shot.

Don’t judge me.  I am not shoveling Mexican appetizers in my face with reckless abandon. I am not slurping Linguini like a 6-year-old, I use a napkin.  It just never sees any fallout because of the enormous obstacles blocking the route from my mouth to my lap.

You can say you wish you had them, and whine, “Nothing fits right for me because I am small chested.”

Boo. Hoo.

Small chested.

My sternum is lost beneath a mass of fleshy obnoxiousness.

Somehow they define me.  They dictate 99.9% of my day.  Recently I was in a fender bender because I was behind on laundry. Having no other options, I wore a black evening push up bra.  Unable to turn my head, because my neck and chin were lodged firmly in my cleavage, I hit a blue Nissan.

Interestingly enough, this excuse got me ogled by a police officer and off with just a warning.

And if you check my tags you will see I am only a 44 D.

This is the hill I die on.. or hills.

I am not going up a size. And, I am not going up in cup size either, Miss Bra “Specialist.” No, I can’t get a deep breath. Yes, my shoulders are bleeding.  No, I am not comfortable.  And yes, I would love to look ten pounds lighter.  But, I am sticking with my 44 D.

Pride may goeth before the fall, but these girls would be hard pressed to fall from the lycra/spandex snare in which they are strategically shoved and maintained.

44 D.

I knew a girl; she decided she couldn’t stay in D-land anymore and sought the help of a minimum wage, grad student, “BRA DOCTOR” at the mall, she came out with the diagnosis she was in fact, a Q.  Yeah.  Q.

So I stuff my girls into my 44 D.

Until I can afford the counseling that would accompany a diagnosis of any letter size not found in Target, I am a 44 D.

Still, within their confines, I bump into walls, fearfully suck in near elevators, and revolving doors, dribble ice cream on them, and yoga is… awkward.

There are simple perks that make it tolerable.  Getting out traffic tickets and some distinct privileges only afforded to the bigger busted women.  OH! And sometimes at night when I take off my bra stuff falls out of it.  One time after a long day of cleaning, I took my bra off and found $11.96, my iPhone, two goldfish crackers, a Pokémon trading card, and a very warm and melty Hershey’s kiss.  Another time after a movie date I was blessed with five skittles, an earring, and some bonus popcorn.


Still, the struggle is real.  The enormous gap in button-down shirts, or worse, the popped button. And yes, I can buy a bigger blouse, but then the sleeves are too long, and the shoulders don’t fit right.  Then there is the occasional blowout where the underwire can no longer withstand the pressure.  The wire snaps and it is continually digging into my ribcage. No kidding, once in line at the grocery store a woman said to me, “Ma’am, your shirt is soaked with blood.” I said, “Yeah, my underwire is shanking me.”  She went to a different lane.

She was “petite.”  She couldn’t understand.

And you inquire, “Aren’t there are other more comfortable options than the underwire?”

What a joke, like what? The tank with shelf bra??? These girls will not stay on the shelf.  A solid oak artisan bookshelf built by Amish craftsmen, maybe.  But that sorry little quarter inch band of elastic with a single stitch around the bottom cannot withstand the weightiness of these chick’s chicks.  What’s that you say? A sports bra?  To you I say:


One night after Zumba, I ran to the library, and the librarian said, “Oh goodness you are carrying HIGH!”

  1. Not pregnant.
  2. That’s my boobs. They are heaved together and tightly constrained in an effort not to harm myself or anyone else when I shake it out to Ricky Martin.
  3. Seriously? How many women carry so high the baby is in their neck?
  4. No more talking for the rest of the day. You are banned from speaking.

A blessing? A curse?  Hardly either.  They are an entity all of their own.  They dictate what I will wear, and they compromise what I can eat. Moreover, they interfere with conversations and activities.  The statement, “My eyes are up here…” Hardly applicable as they, when effectively encased, are very near my eyes.

It isn’t really your fault you can’t maintain eye contact and not breast contact; they are in the same line of vision.  They are indeed distracting.

And they are noticed by those who attempt to be discrete and those with no filter. One time, our youngest son asked me if I loved him and I said, “Oh goodness yes!  My heart is overflowing with love.” And he poked each one and said, “I can see how much huge love there is.”  The worst ever? One of the sons, when he was about 5 said, “I just love those giant bumps under your shirt. I just want to squeeze them.” To which his father responded, “Things we think son, not things we say.”


Yes, these are the trials of the well-endowed.   These are the sands that flow through my top heavy hourglass.  Here I sit, blogging on the dressing room floor of Macy’s. White shirts on hangers, on the floor, on the bench. Some to keep, some to leave, some to consider altering.  I have cried six times on this trip to the mall.  I replace white shirts and Clorox bleach pens like others replace toilet paper on the roller.

And I am a good Christian gal.  I love Jesus, HGTV, and apple pie.  In the words of the well-endowed Jessica Rabbit: “I am not bad, I am just drawn this way.”

This is my life.

These are my cups… they indeed overflow.

May your floors be sticky and your cup size be a C.  Love, Jami

(And you didn’t think you would get by without a scripture reference did you???)

Psalm 23:5 My cups overflows with your blessings…  

You might also like: Your Sister in Christ, A. Butthead

Check out my new Youtube channel!  Daily inspiration, laughs, home hacks, recipes, and so much more!!!!!

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  1. Glenna McKelvie on July 25, 2016 at 7:36 am

    Well, darlin’ your Grandma Jean wouldn’t go up a bra size either
    (Coincidence or genetics?) she would buy her 44 D and then sew bra extenders to them. I never understood it, but, whatever works, huh? … It may not be considered “couth” to tuck your nappie under your chin, but it is a solution.. So is a lobster bib!

  2. Becky on July 25, 2016 at 7:51 am

    Bless you for this! I got home yesterday and realized that everything I had eaten all day could be found smeared across my “shelf”
    Im a 40DD, the struggle is real

  3. Debra on July 25, 2016 at 10:24 am

    I’m technically an F. But you can’t find those at Target or Walmart so I mostly find myself wearing DDs. I recently bought a bunch of bras on clearance. Less than six months later, most of them have holes where the wires tried to escape. I’ve decided I’m done buying bras. My husband nixed my going bare idea though, so I’m going to go looking for a good pattern and begin the adventure of making my own. If I can pull off a comfortable bra for myself, I know it’ll be cheaper and easier than scouring the store for bras that won’t actually fit anyway.

    • jami_amerine on July 25, 2016 at 10:26 am


  4. Deborah Dykeman on July 25, 2016 at 10:31 am

    I do not have this problem, and have been very thankful for what God has given me. My cups overflow just enough! But my two oldest daughters do have this ‘blessing’ and I shared this post with them. To offer encouragement so they know they aren’t alone in this battle of the breasts. Thanks for the endearing, funny read. It got my Monday off to a better start! Have a great day!

    • jami_amerine on July 25, 2016 at 10:34 am


  5. Sonya on July 25, 2016 at 10:47 am

    Loved this. I’m right there with you. Actually, I went to one of those “bra doctors.” I think my American size is something like K, but my European size GG bras are so comfortable. They’re not cheap, but on the plus side one lasted well over a year before a wire broke. The brand is Elomi, highly recommend them. It doesn’t socks the shelf, but at least they are comfortable and nicely shaped. 🙂

    • jami_amerine on July 25, 2016 at 10:48 am


    • Sonya on July 25, 2016 at 10:59 am

      Lol, oops, I meant solve the shelf.

  6. Mary Ann on July 25, 2016 at 12:08 pm

    Right there with you, sister. I haven’t owned a button-down blouse in years, and like Sonya, I’m now confined to buying from European bra doctors. I still find earrings and other sundries tucked around the girls at the end of the day, but at least my shoulders aren’t bleeding any more!

  7. Chatlotte on July 25, 2016 at 2:21 pm

    Here in the UK I was a 36L when I was breastfeeding (no I had no idea they went tha big either!!) my Areola was larger than my baby’s face and my breast at least twice the size of her head! I am now a 34HH we have bravissimo which is AMAZING, they make clothes in regular sizes but with extra chest space in curvy or super curvy. Check them out online 🙂

    • jami_amerine on July 25, 2016 at 2:23 pm

      My daughter and I are in the floor dying!!!!!

    • Branalyn on August 6, 2016 at 9:25 pm

      Yes! I buy UK sizes too. 30GG. And I keep hearing about the magic of Bravissimo clothes but it’s so expensive to order from the UK that I haven’t tried yet.

      • jami_amerine on August 6, 2016 at 9:26 pm

        I need to look into this….

  8. Melody Felger on July 25, 2016 at 4:34 pm

    Oh my gosh, Jami, I felt like the only woman in the world who struggles so with this issue. Thanks for sharing. ♡

    • jami_amerine on July 25, 2016 at 4:34 pm


  9. Glenna McKelvie on July 26, 2016 at 11:07 am

    I saw an advertisment once that said, (and I quote:) “Why aren’t there any comfy bras? Because those are only sold in Australia!”
    With on-line shopping, maybe we should have a peek! (In my head I added Australian accent font!)

  10. erikarizkallah on July 26, 2016 at 12:12 pm

    Oh my gosh I actually stomped the floor laughing. I have been “blessed” (not really) with shrinking boobs since my third child’s baby weight came off, but my daughter is an “F.” This sounds so much like her that I will have to forward it. Thanks for writing this – it really made my day!

  11. Lisa on July 28, 2016 at 5:22 pm

    I was a 36 G. I hated bra and shirt shopping. I have a breast reduction last year, that my insurance covered! . Best. Decision. Ever.

  12. A Day in the Life – the Whole Truth on August 5, 2016 at 3:54 am

    […] put up a blog post about the size of my breasts and had coffee. Charlie woke first, I gave him a cup of orange juice and a baggie of goldfish […]

  13. Tina on August 18, 2016 at 8:01 am

    Coming late to the party (just found you today from your “My Kids is a Jerk” post) and wanted to add my $.02. I got professionally fitted at the ultra-fancy Nordstroms (felt VERY out of place). I went in thinking I was a 38D and came out a 36DDD. Wearing the right bra totally changed my silhouette. However, that ultra-fancy place is one of the very few that carried my size. And I can’t afford to pay $68 for ONE bra, let alone more than one. Enter eBay. I buy my bras NWT or NWOT (and have gone up to a 38G now, which horrifies me) for $25-$30.
    If I could find the $12k I’d totally do a breast reduction. Trying to teach my teenage girls to love their bodies while disliking mine is not fun.

    • jami_amerine on August 18, 2016 at 8:09 am


  14. Carrie on August 20, 2016 at 3:38 pm

    I was a 44M. I had a reduction right at a year ago…12 pounds gone. Better back issues, better shoulders, fewer stains. Now that the boobs are smaller, the gut looks much bigger. Also, somewhat squarish numb frankenboobs and 38″ of hypertrophic scarring. I still can’t decide if it was the best thing ever or the worst thing ever. I still definitely have the boobs “in my head” when I’m evaluating clothing choices or estimating whether I can squeeze by a tight spot. I so get it.

    • jami_amerine on August 20, 2016 at 3:48 pm

      Oh bless.

  15. Cher on January 3, 2017 at 12:51 pm

    I still remember the day after my first child where the 17 year old girl at Victoria Secret proudly and loudly declared..”congratulations your a DD”

    My look if death didn’t seem to phase her. 🙁
    My mom and her friends used to buy me what they felt was acceptable shirts because I always show to much cleavage.. ha even those shirtsame showed cleavage except for the one my chest literally busted the seems right out…

    Hubby finds it funny that I take off my tank or brainless and half my food from the day falls out…

    At least they make great pillows for my kids:) thank you for this posts it made me smile and truly hit home 🙂

    • jami_amerine on January 3, 2017 at 12:54 pm


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  17. Crystal on January 6, 2018 at 9:08 am

    My family now has a nightly betting pool to see how long it will be until my shirt suffers from the inevitable food encounter. The struggle is indeed real.

  18. Michelle on January 6, 2018 at 9:05 pm

    My 17 year old daughter (now 23) got a reduction after the chiropractor found scar tissue in her back. Poor girl…shopping was a nightmare, and swimsuit shopping was the worst. I was hesitant to have the surgery done due to her age. My other daughter, chiropractor , and one other person said, “WHY? She’s suffering!” Best decision ever. She’s so glad and her breast don’t control her life anymore!

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