I hated my teenage years, but it wasn’t because of high school.  I, as a matter of fact, loved it.  I didn’t like the school at all, but the memories created in it will forever stay in my heart.  I hated them because I was stupid enough to not like the way I looked.

At first, I was one of those girls not willing to give up her sport bras because they were so comfty, but as soon as I heard the guys commenting on whoever’s boobies and how amazing they looked, I ditched my comfty friends.  I begged my mom to buy me what I called real bras.  They were usually the cheap ones that come in two packs.  You know, the ones with no bra straps after two washes.  I wore those babies and felt free until I saw whateverhernameis’s almost button popped shirt.  It was dangerous. A rapid movement could’ve popped one of those poorly sewn-on buttons, possibly blinding whoever was staring at her ta-tas.   I wanted to be dangerous like her, but my 32B puppies didn’t let me. 

Google became my worst enemy because it never explained to me how to make my breasts grow.  So… This is going to sound crazy… I put on some weight, on purpose.  Looking back, the body I had was pretty amazing.  True hourglass, my jeans were size 3, sometimes a 5 and I fit into small sized shirts.  Why did I have to be so obsessed with breasts?! 

The scale went up.  A lot.  It took me only a few months to go from 115 to 130-something.  I stuck to my poor eating habits and before I knew it, the scale was at 145 by the time I was a junior.  My hips became wider, my thighs rubbed even more against each other and my butt got bigger, making me fit only in size 11-13 jeans.  My breasts, on the other hand, got to a 36B.  Sadly, it was just four inches of back fat.  I was officially pear shaped. 

I started buying push up bras but moved on to water ones after seeing an episode of Gilmore Girls where Paris Geller says they look more natural.  My water bras got deformed in the washing machine, as well as my boobies, because I wore them that way. 

I became a college student and put on the freshman 20, not 15.  I weighed almost 170 pounds.  This time, it wasn’t on purpose.  A year passed and I got rid of 15 of those 20 pounds, but I also became highly addicted to coffee.  At first, I didn’t like the taste.  I only had it to wake up.  As time passed, I began liking the taste and a cup became two and two became three.  I was having three medium cups of coffee a day!  Even if I was about to go to bed!

Recently, I started noticing a severe discomfort when I slept in my favorite position: drown in the pillow (face down).  My breasts got extremely sore and I could barely touch them.  I forced myself to sleep face up even though it wasn’t easy.  I sometimes took a Benadryl to fall asleep in this position easier.  I thought the pain was caused by the fact that I stopped wearing a bra to sleep because oddly, they wear a little tight.  I began wearing one again.  The pain didn’t go away and a few weeks ago, while taking a shower, I felt something in both breasts, a cluster of grapes-like feeling lump on top of both of my areolas.   My tears got lost in the shower.  I was scared and I didn’t know what to do.   I felt them again, and found a pearl-like lump in my right breast.  I quickly got out and went crying to my mom, asking her to check them.  She confirmed that somethings were in there. 

A couple of mornings after my discovery, I had my morning coffee and went to the OBGYN.  After the awkward sex-related questions, she asked me to undress my top half and began feeling them.  She asked me if I had a lot of coffee or if I ate chocolate occasionally.  No to the chocolate, yes to the coffee.  She ordered me to quit drinking coffee cold turkey for a few weeks and to get some tests done.   Lastly, she asked me if I had noticed a change in size.  I said “yes.”

It seems I got what I wished for, bigger breasts.   

I still don’t know for sure if the caffeine is what caused the lumps to develop.  I’m getting my last test done tomorrow and I will find out what it is exactly that I’m feeling in them.  The pain has diminished, but the lumps are still there. 

I decided to share this with you not only to make you realize how careful you have to be when blowing out candles on your birthday, because your wish may actually come true, but because we can’t waste time hating out bodies or certain body parts—they’re the only ones we have.