Small-breasted And Proud    by Amanda LaConte
                  Cultural Self-identification

    Okay, take a deep breath and say it with me, "I have small breasts and I
am proud." Unlike my older sister, I am one of the many small-breasted women
of America. I'm physically active and I love to dance. Its just a little
unfair when I turn on Baywatch or watch Britney Spears shake her hips on
MTV. I feel that the smaller the waist is, the smaller the boobs should be.
    Everywhere I look, the unrealistic figure is being displayed. Whether it's
TV, movies or the latest edition of Vogue, the media creates an unrealistic
figure that both men and women desire. As a result, most men think this
shape can and should be achieved. Women attempt to fulfill the fantasy
through the classics: clothes, surgery, and dieting. Have no fear; I am
happy with the breasts that I've got. Although people perceive me as
unsatisfied because I'm small breasted, I'm actually perfect in my eyes.
    It's easy to become obsessed with the Barbie Doll figure. We seem to
forget that the measurements of Barbie are proven not to be physically
possible.
    It's amazing that we subject children to these images. One
estimate measured the crucial statistics as 36-18-33.  This is the
measurement of an anorexic or bulimic teenager, whichever one you choose,
with breast implants.
    In middle school, I was the flat one. All the boys flocked to
the girls that hit puberty faster than the others. These girls were my friends
that wore push-up bras with their size A-cup bra and  tight little tank
tops. On the other hand, my breasts were little bumps behind a training
bra. It was in seventh grade where I learned what exactly boys were
interested in when it comes to girls. All the girls desired larger breasts
to attract the boys’ attention. That’s when I realized I belonged to the
subculture of small-breasted women. A subculture is a group that a person
belongs to whether by choice or not. By my physical appearance, I felt
generalized into the group of small-breasted woman.
    During high school the breast issue didn't fade with maturity, it only
grew. My girlfriends still competed among themselves to look the best. The
amount of money they spent on clothes was ridiculous. I will never forget
sitting at the lunch table while the girls discuss the calories in every bite
they ate. To be honest, it just made me sick. Eventually I moved to the
boys table for the reminder of the school year. I started noticing a
distinction in my personality in comparison with other girls. I didn't count
the calories. I was comfortable enough to get into a cheerleading uniform
and cheer in front of crowds. I accepted my body for what it was.
   Two girls who graduated a year before me got implants. I remember my best
friend saying, "You will never believe it, but Roxanne and Ashley got breast
implants." 
    I couldn't believe what came to my ears. These
two girls were beautiful without huge breasts. She also informed me that it
was a "buy one, get one" deal.
    Breasts have become a marketing product.
    My senior year was when the unimaginable began to happen. The little
girls  I played Barbie with were slowly turning into Barbie figures. A
total of three girls got implants and one got a breast reduction.
    Emotionally, I could not help but get angry. I was angry, because they were
so unhappy with their natural bodies. They are and were beautiful, so why
were they so insecure? 
    Senior year was coming to the end; we were all grown-up and ready to
explore the world of college. Maybe my friends weren't as mature and
accepting of themselves as I thought. Two of my close friends received nose
jobs as a graduation gift. Well, nothing says, "I love you" like a nose job
from Mom and Dad. Is this my generation or what?
    I no longer belonged in the normal group of small-breasted women, but
something deeper. I am proud of my body. The more surgery my friends
received the more accepting of myself I became. I understand the media and
men have created this generation of teenage surgery.
   I feel almost secluded as if I should be getting something fixed,
removed, and implanted. I look at my friends and see their insecurities
through their surgery. But the question is, are they happy now?  I feel
like a stronger person because I am happy with the body that I have. I may
not be perfect, but that is who I am. No silicon, just me-- a white, proud,
small-breasted eighteen-year-old who is happy enough to keep cheerleading in
college. Hopefully at sixty, I will feel the same way.

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