Last week, the Telegraph ran an article on actress Ariel Winter, 17, who after several years of back pain due to her huge, um, tracts of land, opted to have herself trimmed back two cup sizes. For a civilian comparison, the newspaper also interviewed Gadgette editor-in-chief Holly Brockwell, who’s now a comfy C after losing “massive albatrosses,” and several commenters dumped on her, not so much for getting the NHS to pay for her surgery — we’re talking serious pain, folks — but for potentially depriving them of the view. She wrote up a nasty rebuttal to them, but then admitted on Twitter that she wasn’t sure she wanted to go with it. We talked her into it, and here’s some of it:
If you woke up one day and your testicles were the size of melons, would you proudly show them off? Would you endure the pain in your spine and the overt stares because hey, you’ve got massive balls? Or would you go immediately to your doctor and beg for help from the NHS for the heavy, swollen, painful masses on your front?
Are you really, actually suggesting that Ariel Winter and I, and all the other women with comically oversized mammaries, should just deal with it because they give you a bit of a semi-on when you see us on the bus? Do you really think we’re ever going to get naked with anyone who’d say our scars (pale, silver, almost unnoticeable) are ugly? Do you really think we care if you find us less sexy now?
Yes, my breasts are way smaller now than they were before — and they’re also a lot smaller than they were after I had the surgery. Do you know why that is? Because it’s quite hard to do any exercise with the equivalent of two bags of sugar hanging on your chest. Now I’m free to do anything I want, so yes, I’ve lost weight. I can run up the stairs without holding my chest tightly. I can walk without feeling seasick from all the bouncing. I can go to the pool without feeling people’s eyes all over me.
I can live.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that quite the nicest bewb job I’ve ever seen was done for exactly these reasons, and I never had any reason to look for the scars.
Holly’s last words on the matter will probably stick with me as well:
Well, Angry Internet Men, your comments almost made me reconsider that. Almost. And then I remembered — you’re just sad, faceless dudes on the internet. I will never meet you, I will never care about you, and you will never get to see my beautiful C-cups in real life. Because if there’s one thing I don’t need in my world, it’s more boobs like you.