Big boobs are a blessing and a curse. While they attract the male gaze and provide a really comfy pillow, they get in the way of exercise and don’t have the most attractive selection of bras.

Not that I know this. But the women who are friends with Iris Pastor gave all the problems with having big boobs:

Friend #1: Sprouting in 5th grade like fast-growing weeds, my ta-tas skipped the training bra stage and slid right into an A cup size, to my mother’s horror. One day I was playing with dolls and the next I was surveying my silhouette in the full length mirror on my closet door — tummy tucked in and shoulders straight. It was quite a sight. And it scared the hell out of me.

Friend #2: My dad promptly became the Sultan of Surveillance once my ta-tas started peeking conspicuously through. He now eyed all my male neighbourhood buddies and kickball pals with open suspicion. I, too, was suspicious — suspicious of the large bumps suddenly jutting out underneath my previously loose button down blouses. What was I suppose to do with them?

Friend #3: I continued to wear my thick cotton undershirts over my bra. To no avail. The boys in my class continuously stared at my ever-ripening chest, no matter how modestly I dressed.

Friend #4: I got my bra straps snapped in the halls of junior high school all the time.

Friend #5: Quickly climbing the alphabet in cup size, my previously athletic and trim body transformed itself into an hourglass of curves. I lost the ability to run like the wind. And I lost the innocence of an anonymous childhood too.

Friend #6: My new reality:
Unsolicited cat calls from construction workers
Lecherous looks from older men
Too long hugs from male family relatives at Thanksgiving celebrations
Veiled looks of envy from other women

Friend #7: Forget push-up bras to enhance my cleavage. My sisters were spilling out everywhere. And my shoulders soon developed life-long deep grooves from the weight of my bra straps.

Friend #8: I learned to avoid empire waist dresses and high-waist pants. And I routinely came close to suffocating in yoga class when my large breasts simply prevented me from breathing deeply — and sometimes at all — while executing all those yoga poses.

Friend #9: Forget jogging, sleeping on my stomach, going bra less, wearing backless sundresses and flawlessly executing jumping jacks. All things I used to be able to do with wild abandon.

Friend #10: My friends with moderately sized ta-tas had a vast array of brassieres to choose from in a vast multitude of colours, styles, and patterns. My bras were beige, heavily under-wired construction wonders that screamed “industrial strength.” Not even grandpas would find them appealing.

But now, research has suggested that bigger is a little better, in some regards at least. In a study conducted on 1 200 women, it was found that women with bigger breasts average 10 IQ points higher than those with smaller cups.

Women with a cup size of D or larger scored an average of 10 points higher than women with size A or B cup size.

Why? They aren’t sure yet. But maybe those 1 200 woman will eventually shed some light.

One theory is that the female hormone estrogen, responsible for breast development, may also play a role in intelligence.

So does that mean women are more intelligent than men? Not all the time. This cannot be generalised. Gah. When Iris went back to her friends and told them about the study, this is what they said:

Let’s face it, men adore them. And me? I’ve learned to love my humps too — once I got over the initial shock of their ubiquitous presence, that is. And, if I’m smarter because of them, that’s an added bonus or two.

Oh, dear.

[source: huffingtonpost]