I really wish I didn't have breasts. My mom is the reason why

I have often contemplated taping them to make them look non-existent.

I am a woman with breasts. And despite how normal the statement sounds, it has plagued my existence ever since I hit puberty.

Being a tomboy and having a not-so-feminine frame for most of my early teenage years, made me oblivious to the concept of a bra. I found this particular piece of undergarment very restrictive (and still do). In fact, back then, when girls in my class were busy comparing their bra sizes, I was happily hanging around in loose tees without as much as a training bra and a care in the world.

You see, I was very happy that I didn't have breasts to boast you. As a matter of fact, I didn't want breasts--I prayed to God that I would be that odd woman who didn't grow a pair. If you are wondering that my aversion to this very normal biological body part stems from a gory incident of molestation or childhood abuse, then you are wrong. The reason why I hated the idea of having breasts, and still do, is because they signified the end of freedom for me.

You see, once my mom noticed the budding swells, she sat me down for a chat. One that I will remember for life.

It was not about how having breasts is the most normal thing in the world or what kind of bras I should shop for. It was about how I was now turning into a woman, which to a 13-year-old like a dangerous thing to happen. I was made aware that my assets now had to be carefully guarded from the prying eyes of strangers and how I must now not wear clothes that compliment my figure.

There are times when I wish my mom hadn't made breasts sound like the devil. Photo: Shutterstock/ IndiaPicture

Also read: For a world obsessed with breasts, this poem is a must read

I remember crying my eyes out that day because it had actually felt like the end of the world for me. And over the next few weeks I saw my mother packing away my favourite t-shirts and turning the remaining ones into a washcloth. She did take me shopping, though. But, to buy extremely baggy shirts that even fit me now, when I am nearing my thirties.

Though time moved on, I didn't. I have spent most of my life hiding from femininity and stocking my wardrobe with clothes two sizes too large for me--all in the bid to camouflage my already non-existent breasts. Though, my ill-fitting clothes have become the butt of jokes for my friends and colleagues, I happily soldier on. Not bothered by the criticism one bit.

Majorly because my priority does not lie in looking beautiful or appealing. My existence depends on camouflaging the curves of my body, which includes fishing for restrainers, though they don't come in my size.

Also, while most women my age blame men for the compulsion to cover up, my frustration lies elsewhere. There are times when I wish my mom hadn't made breasts sound like the devil or things that I should be ashamed of. If in a parallel universe that would have happened, who knows, I would have been a much confident woman, with a wardrobe full of things in the right size.

Also read: Why the hypocrisy Facebook? If men can bare nipples, why can't women?