From the age of 12 or so, every single night I would get into bed and find myself reciting one simple, heartfelt prayer to sweet baby Jesus in heaven.
World peace? Not quite.
A lottery win so my parents could retire? Nope.
A lifetime supply of Maccas Happy meals? Negative.
I would lie in bed and earnestly pray with all my might to wake up with smaller boobs.
Of course I never did wake up with B cups. If anything they grew larger as I grew older until my boobs entered a room before I did.
Now if you're thinking that would have been every teenage girl's dream — think again. I felt less 'Katy Perry Teenage Dream' and more 'Whoopi Goldberg Sister Act' with those F cups under my school uniform. Plus I was terrified of boys until I turned 20 so to make matters worse, they weren't even being truly enjoyed during their years of prime perkiness.
Even when I graduated to a time in life when members of the opposite sex were in fact enjoying my assets (sorry Mum), I still most certainly was not.
To be perfectly honest, and I know I'm not alone in this, for the majority of my adult life I've felt my breasts to be a burden. And not just in a metaphorical sense. They have literally weighed my shoulders down, causing migraines and back pain. For years, my shoulders had permanent indentations from the industrial strength bra straps that held my breasts up and away from my bellybutton for 12 hours a day.
My fellow big-breasted sisters will be reading this and furiously nodding in solidarity. In fact — if you have been blessed with your own generous set of lady lumps — perhaps one of the following scenarios rings more than true.