My Boobs Have Grown And I’m Too Old For This



I pulled my sweater off with my back to the mirror. My sunglasses slid off the top of my head and I threw them on the pile I’d amassed in the corner: jacket, messy handbag, cell phone. The skull motif on my turquoise scarf looked up at me slyly. They knew, those skulls.

I didn’t need to look in the mirror. I knew too.

Absently, I scratched a dry patch on my hand as I leaned against the wall. My back hurt. I shifted a little on the balls of my feet. Did I need to pee again? I decided to ignore the muted signals my bladder was misfiring to my brain. It was less than an hour since I’d gone.

“Alright honey. Let’s take a look!” She was warm and friendly. Her hair fell in beautiful, black tresses around her face. She beamed with her eyes as well as her mouth.

I turned toward her and gave her a tired smile back. I glimpsed my reflection in profile. I think I heard the skulls snigger.

She sized me up without judgment or a tape measure. I think that’s the secret. “You are definitely in the wrong size. We are going to get you up!” And with that she left, in a flurry of promise and hope.

I turned toward the mirror.

I don’t know when it happened. The aching back. The tired feet. The hands that feel dry no matter how much cream I rub into them. My grandmother’s hands. Long knobbly fingers. Covered in lines.

Was it overnight? A dark quiet night, some time between turning 40 last year and 41 next week? I don’t remember that I woke up on any particular morning in the last 12 months feeling and looking different, older, sweatier, grayer. No matter how much I sleep, the eyes that look back at me in the mirror always resemble an ancient raccoon.

I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know when I started to smell like a teenager in between showers, or when I decided I need a bunch of new bras because mine were suddenly way too small. Puberty for 40-somethings? I don’t remember the details from the first time around, but I do know there is little to control and way too much to relinquish!

“Ookaay hon, what do you think of these?” Beautiful lace in cream and black, pale pink and purple beckoned from her outstretched hands. The delicate colors took my breath away, but it was the wide satin straps and underwire that I was after.

No matter how confidently time marches all over my body, my boobs were not going to be casualties of this hormonal battle!

My hair turns gray when nobody is looking. And every time I sneeze or laugh too hard… well, you know. It’s bewildering and confusing, when and how this happens. In the dead of night or right before my eyes.

I looked at myself once in the mirror. Smiled a real smile, and gave my new friend a big, grateful hug. I gathered up my belongings and shoved that scarf deep into my bag.

I had new underwire. No need for anything else.

This is a Finish the Sentence Friday post, inspired by the prompt, “No one was around when it happened.” Hosted by Kristi from Finding Ninee, Lisa (this week’s sentence thinker-upper) from Flingo, and Jessica from Ramblings of an add mommy. My wise friend, Samantha, told me, “Our boobs deserve the best.” She’s right.

41 thoughts on “My Boobs Have Grown And I’m Too Old For This

    • I’m so glad this helped you feel it’s not just you, Jennifer. The body is wonderful and very very weird, and if nothing else it’s good to know we’re in it together. Thank YOU for letting me know you’re experiencing it too.

      Liked by 2 people

  1. OH this is just so well written!! I get it… nearing 48, somehow I have become this old, grey, tired, peeing, stinky, greasy, flabby, heavier, wrinkled, ancient raccoon too.

    I love this. It just so beautifully describes how it goes, this aging thing and us women.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I don’t need new bras, but sometime over the last six months my rib cage widened, because almost all of my dresses are too tight in the upper torso. It’s bizarre, and I wouldn’t have noticed if I never wore dresses that zip up the back. Earlier this week I got stuck in a dress in a dressing room; I was sweating and cursing and I thought I was going to have to dislocate my shoulder to get out of the damn thing.

    I got out. But your words are a much more pleasant commentary on growing older.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. OK so at first when I started reading I thought, what? Is she saying she is pregnant? (You can hit me later for that, when we meet.) The needing to pee threw me off. But the grandmother’s hands got me back on track. Then I thought of the classic comment about boobs…how they tend to come in two sizes: too big or too small. But by the end of your piece, you show that they are just right! I love how you embraced the wide straps and underwire but were also able to find some bras with lovely colors and pretty lace. Yay!

    And I loved your description of the hands. Yesssss! Sometimes I look down and think, wow, there are my Mom’s hands, big veins popping out all over. And let’s not get started on the spider veins on the legs!

    I remember seeing my first age spot on my hand. I thought it was weird to suddenly have a new freckle on my hand in my 40s. I’ll admit that for a split second I thought YAY, a freckle, as I had weirdly enough been slightly jealous and enamored of kids with red hair and (just the right amount of) freckles on their faces when I was a kid. But then I realized, it’s not a freckle, it’s my first old age spot! Oy!

    So great how you articulated how it sneaks up on you but I promise on the inside you are allowed to keep feeling younger and younger, if you want!



    • Definitely NOT PREGNANT Nancy! But I can see now why you would think so at first. Oy vay. That’s perfect: too big or too small. I have always thought “too big” but that has now taken on a new meaning ;). My new bras are fabulous though! xo

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I hate that ginormous window. I don’t like being fussed over and helped with bra shopping either. I remember going bra shopping one time and I looked at the lady like, “Are you going to get out?” She did but I don’t think she was planning too. Just a couple days ago I saw a Victoria Secrets bra card on my husbands dresser. I gave it to him a few years ago saying if you ever want to buy me something here’s the size and style I liked. I saw the card was from 2012. I huffed and threw it in the trash because I’ve gone up a number since then. Last thing I want is him coming home with a last minute gift of some too small bras.

    Liked by 1 person

      • I would never let my husband buy me a bra! He would probably get it even bigger than I need, which would make me feel worse I think :).
        I agree bra shopping and fitting is a fraught experience, but I loved the experience at this particular store, Intimacy. The assistant was WONDERFUL and her words, “We’re going to get you up!” come to me in all sorts of situations lately.

        Liked by 1 person

  5. I loved the level of descriptiveness – I felt like I was inside your mind, seeing this all, and feeling it. I quite like that you have your grandmother’s hands – that felt nice, as though it was a family characteristic you are pleased to continue.

    And now you have pretty bras 🙂 Good job.

    Liked by 1 person

      • I looked at mine today, after reading yours, and having gardened with my mum – mine are like hers – ingrained with dirt, with wide thumbs and long fingers. I like that 🙂

        Liked by 2 people

  6. Lovely Nicki! As always. I can’t figure out whether my boobs have gotten bigger or if I just now retain more fat in my back. Sigh. I’m glad you got the pretty pretty bras.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh gees! I hadn’t thought of that. Oh well. Big boobs, fat back… this is 40-something. Sigh. But soon we can compare whose boobs are bigger and that will be fun! I’ll bring the gin ;).


  7. Oh, I could relate to this! It really is just like going through puberty again. I knew all the other stuff was part of aging and hormonal changes, but I didn’t know about the boobs getting bigger. I couldn’t figure out why my bras have all gotten so uncomfortable . . .

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Every time I go up a bra size, I remind myself how much I wished for this in my 20s. And it helps me remember to be careful what I wish for! I agree, this time is not super fun!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Okay. Underwire. An amazing invention, but one that also can feel incredibly uncomfortable. Bra fittings for me are always traumatic affairs. Plus, growing older really doesn’t help either. Great writing, as usual!!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I can relate to muscles giving in…jeez!
    My arms are flabby and when I move them all I see is jiggles. It was just yesterday I had no concerns…how did this happen!!

    Darn age and even darner muscles 😦


    Liked by 1 person

  11. Was this when you went bra shopping here in Chicago? I also feel like I’m experiencing some of the same things you mentioned, and I have a few more months til 40. Sadly, though, I’m not experiencing the increased boob size. Jealous! 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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