My Shelf, My Self

Today, dear internet, I would like to talk about breasts.

That’s right, I want to have a quick convo about boobs, ta-tas, tits, mammaries, melons, cans, jugs, rack, chest-puppies, whatever term you use…  (And before you ask, yes I totally googled “alternative terms for boobs”)

Or as I often refer to my own… my shelf.


My chest came from the Swedish side of my heritage. I recall a conversation with my mom, right around the time that whole puberty thing was starting to happen. We debated whether I would take after the more, err, subdued Norwegian side or the notoriously busty Swedish side.

Well, the Swedes have it, by a couple letters.

I am no Chesty Larue by any means, but I am pretty sure I am in the above average range.  Generally, I am impartial about my shelf. Afterall, breasts aren’t some magical mysterious entity when you spend most your life with a pair. To me, they are just not that big of a deal. (Pun very intended)

However sometimes, and get on board with me busty girls, they are quite frankly annoying and a hassle.

Anytime anyone tells me I am lucky, or verbalizes some chest-envy, I like to remind them of the following disadvantages….



– Button-Up Shirts (I have yet to meet one that isn’t baggy at the bottom and straining at the chest.)

– Vests (It’s like an awkward window to your cleavage. Also, see button-up shirt problem.)

– Suspenders (Nope. Just nope. These will never look right.)

– Cross-body bags (Unless dividing and conquering is your intended look.)

– Ruffles, cowl necks, etc (Insta-Line Backer Look. Ohh, let’s add more mass to your bulkiest part!)

– Empire waists or things with built-in bras (The “allotted boobal region” is never big enough)

– Peasant shirts (Or how to instantly look prego / like a shapeless bag)

– Slogan T-shirts (I don’t know if you are trying to read the misshapen letters or just staring)

– Strapless Anything (So much fear! So much tugging up! So much armpit fat!)

– V-Neck, Low Cut (Pride and Prejudice would tell me I need to “tuck a little lace”)


– Candies, crumbs, small projectiles, etc. (Seem to having a homing device for cleavage.)

– Drippy foods (Shelf is SO good at catching drips.)

– Tall counters (aka boob-height counters)

– Leaning, in general, wearing anything besides a turtle neck. (Nope, I was not trying to be scandalous, I promise.)



It’s not all bad though, kids. There are some advantages to being decently well-endowed, I promise. (And they have nothing to do with whether or not men or other women like ’em).

The term shelf, quite obviously I would assume, comes from the fact that if I drop something it’s usually caught and stays put. I can rest food, books, remotes, whatever on my own built-in storage system.

It’s a great spot to place my ipod or phone and blast tunes while walking around my apartment. This also works when you are having speaker-phone conversations with people.  (Umm, maybe should have keep that second one secret… that’s not strange right?)

Also every once in a while when getting ready for bed I find some renegade item, often food, that has snuck itself down between those puppies and hung out all day. Guys have beards for snack storage, us ladies have our chests, whether or not the hording is intentional. (I call them bonus snacks!)

I have a love/hate relationship with my shelf, I suppose.

I adore them for the storage/convenience factor, but loathe them from a fashion/looking-like-a-hussy standpoint.

Just one of those girl things.


One thought on “My Shelf, My Self

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s