The problem with big boobs and sunbaking

Cookie crumbs end up in cleavage

For Women Only

Big boobs, big bums, big thighs and bold personalities are a Maltese trait. And it’s also what I’ve inherited from my ancestors – as I discovered this month when holidaying in Malta.

I’m not really one for swimming and sun-baking, probably because I’m not stick thin and am quite self conscious in bathers. But I love what I’ve discovered about the Maltese women and the way they embrace their bodies – especially in swimwear. They don’t give a stuff about what anyone else thinks! I really wish we had an attitude like this in Australia. I really wish “I” had an attitude like this.

Sitting on the gravel and rocks on the sea edge I was enthralled watching these women. Would I have the courage to throw down my sarong, bask in the sun and embrace my shape in my new bathers? I wasn’t quite sure.

I saw so many different shaped and sized women. Massive women – that must have been a size 30 – in bikinis! Their bums would have been the size of my coffee table back home, and their stomachs hung so far over the top of their bikini bottoms that from the front, you couldn’t tell they even had bikini-bottoms on. And do you know what? They didn’t care! They were having fun and embraced their curves, and fat, and rolls. I wished I could be like that.

There were women as white as snow (like me) through all shades to the deeply bronzed. From reed-thin to morbidly obese. From toned and firm to flabby and wobbly. I noticed some of the bigger women were firm, and some of the skinny women were flabby. It really was a mixed bag of body shapes, sizes and colours.

I needed to “toughen up Princess” and throw down the gauntlet! To stop stressing about what I looked like in bathers and enjoy my holiday, milky-skinned-flab and all. I untied my orange floral sarong, threw it to the side, and felt the Mediterranean sun on my skin for the first time.

And – it was time to get a sun tan! To go from milky-white to maybe … a deep beige??

For a whole week I spent at least half an hour a day sun baking and my skin eventually went from white to a light freckly caramel tone. I was so pleased with myself {smug look}. I got quite sun-burned one particular day, and when I got home and looked in the mirror I had white lines across my neck. It looked like someone had tried to slit my throat numerous times – with white chalk! What the hell had happened??

White lines along tanned neckI couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I freaked out. Had my saggy 50 year old neck lolled downwards causing a crease that the sun couldn’t penetrate? I tried to re-enact all the different ways my skin sagged to work out how the white lines appeared. But I couldn’t.

I did notice however, that when I was swimming, my big-buxom-bosoms had a bit of trouble submerging into the sea water! Could it be that when they were floating on the surface like buoys they were actually pushing my chest skin upwards causing the creases? Maybe. So when I was swimming next I tried to push the bloody things underwater to get sun on my neck. It was a losing battle! I tried to duck underwater to get my face wet at one stage but because of my two power-floaties I couldn’t get the top of my head underwater! I had to get my sister to put her hand on top of my head and bleedin’ well push me under! My boobs must be air filled! No chance of drowning here. But still, I couldn’t account for how the white lines appeared.

I dragged myself out of the sea water and reclined back on my beach towel amongst the other bodies vying for a tan. It was then I had my epiphany! I have very nice bust-supported bathers. My boobs do not sag at all in them! When I was reclining my orbs reached towards the heavens above like twin mountains – then it happened.

As my head hit the sand, my boobs lost their centre of gravity and tilted towards my neck. The freakin’ things practically landed on the sand above my shoulders. When they tilted backwards on their axis my chest skin “gathered” and my creases were created up near my neck! This is what happens when a big busted women lays back too far in “E” cups! Yes, E cups. E = enormous, or elephant!

Then, when I stood up, they came crashing back towards earth like a couple of meteorites, pulling my neck and chest skin taut again. Mystery solved!

Oh crikey. What chance did I have?

I needed to change the way I sunbaked from now one. There was only one way that worked. Sitting up and reclining to about a 45 degree angle so “gravity” kept my boulders headed more towards my feet, rather than towards my head.

So how does a big-busted women sun-bake? Why … vertically … of course!

An Aunt’s Reflection

3 hearts on clotheslineI am their Aunt.

I watched; as they grew inside their mother’s womb. I’d put my hand on her stomach and feel them move. I’d smile.

A boy. He was battered and bruised from a traumatic birth.   I watched his cousins say “he’s beautiful” to his Mum. I told them not to mention his injuries as they’d hurt his Mum’s feelings. I saw; the creation of a new mother’s love come into being.

A girl. I watched; as she entered the world and was gently placed on her mother’s stomach. She cried when she looked upon her tiny daughter.

I watched; when they were 2 and 3 years old and their dad left their Mum. Who would have known they’d grow up in a single parent household. Not I. Not anyone.

I watched; as their Mum struggled to bring them both up, on her own when they were so little. I watched; as she went back to work and put them in childcare so she could keep paying the bills. And I held her when she cried; because she didn’t plan for them not to have a dad living in the same house, like most of their friends had.

I was there for their first day of school. I watched; as they walked through the gate, struggling to hold those big school bags on their backs.

I watched their tantrums and I went to their home to be the “tough” one when they were giving their Mum a hard time. They could be little terrors at times! I heard; when then called me “The Commando”.

I watched; as the doctor told their Mum she had cancer. And I watched over them in the hospital as she had surgery. It was a tough year.

I watched a little girl; struggling with a big vacuum cleaner to try and help her Mum clean the house. I watched a little boy, who would lean close to his Mum when she slept, not wanting to wake her, but just making sure she was still breathing. I watched; as they both went through things that no child should ever have to go through.

But do you know what I’ve seen with all of my watching?

He – is one incredible and amazing young man. He has so much integrity and I’m proud of the man he is becoming. He is only 15, but he seems so much older. A true gentle-man. A man any young woman would be proud to take home and introduce to her parents.

She – is not just my niece, she is “my sister”. A 14 year old young woman, a nurturer, who cares about others with amazing empathy and compassion that most girls her age do not possess. She is beautiful and witty, smart and intelligent. Her heart for social justice and what is right is so powerful in such a young woman.

But I don’t just watch them. I pray for them; I encourage them; and I am one of their most ardent supporters. But more than anything.

I love them. I am their Aunt.

©2015 CEW

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