“I grew up looking like a boy all of my childhood.

My first memory of my breasts are utter pain from being groped by my abusive relatives and being extremely ashamed of it. I looked at it as the reason for being abused. I hated it for long. I used to walk in a way my breasts didn’t show much.

Then I started dating a boy and his first reaction was that my breasts are small. The next man said the same thing. The next man too.

I dated women in between the men and they were the ones appreciating my breasts. I remember one of my former beloveds telling me, “I love your breasts, they are shaped like teardrops.”

I think making love to women has made me love my body more than anything. Thankfully the last few men I have been with loved my body.

My current partner gives out a wolf whistle everyday after I come out of the bath and take off the towel to start getting dressed. Seeing someone I love love my body feels exhilarating. I feel great every morning about myself, my hatred for myself is going down and so is my tendency of self harming.

I have started loving my body, especially my breasts, and I love when they are paid attention to. I love touching them, I love them being touched. My partner comes home wary and puts his head to my breasts with his eyes closed and he tells me it gives him peace, makes him breathe slower, calms him down and none of it is sexual at that moment.

I have started loving my breasts so much, I love the color of my nipple and the non-perky shape of my breasts, they hang loose on my chest, relaxed, not standing uptight to satisfy gazes anymore.”

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