Stages

[Busty]

With a subject like that, one might expect to see a discussion of physical development, such as Tanner stages. Instead, I’m going to focus on the emotional stages as we have gone through physical stages.

Oblivious:  I developed breasts the same time as the girls in my class, but I was totally unaware of the soft mounds growing on my chest topped by puffy nipples. 

Denial: Of course, before long, my growing breasts were getting me teased, the most common being, I needed to wear a bra. Even so, I kept telling myself I was like the other boys, and I never asked myself why I had stopped looking at my body in the mirror.

Admitting: under the barrage of constant teasing, I finally had to admit to myself that I did have breasts. And they were getting bigger! 

Awareness:  now that I had admitted, I let myself feel. For example, notice the jiggling. Or how my nipples got saluted when in contact with something cool

Curiosity, dare I call it morbid: I began to examine my breasts, both visually and tactically. How my breasts were soft, fuller at the base, conical in shape, topped by a soft nipple that reminded me of a space capsule.

Embarrassment: Now that I understood my breasts, instead of taking pride in them the way the girls in my class did, I was ashamed.

Camouflaging: I tried to hide my breasts, both by what I wore, and by my posture. I would look in the mirror to see which tops showed less, and I was always hunching my shoulders. 

Lurking: I would surreptitiously study the girls in my class. The size of their breasts compared to mine. The types of bras they wore. 

Bras: Despite my attempts to camouflage, I was constantly being told I needed to wear a bra. I was continuously checking out girls’ bras. I was assiduously studying all the bras in mail order catalogues and advertisements.

My mother’s bras:  I wanted to be able to touch and examine a bra, So I began sneaking into my mother’s lingerie drawer, and checking out all her bras. Knew all the styles, underwire, soft cup, Demi, etc. As a latch key kid, I had a few hours every day.

Me in a bra: like water on a stone, I was being worn down, and it was inevitable that I would think about wearing a bra myself.

Mixed feelings :  As I thought more and more about me wearing a bra, I realized my feelings towards my breasts had been evolving to where I no longer felt purely humiliated. While having breasts was inconvenient to say the least, there was also something aesthetic and sensual about them.

My First Bra:  One day at school, I decided when I got home, I wasn’t going to just go through my mother’s bras, I was going to put one on.

The rest of that day, I was more aware of my breasts than ever. Every jiggle. How the insides of my top felt as it glided over my nipples with every jiggle. 

I had trouble concentrating at school that day. My mind kept drifting back to my mother’s bra collection. In one of my mother’s magazines, I had found an article about what to look for in a girl’s first bra. It had such characteristics as soft, comfortable, gentle support, coverage, modesty.

My mother’s soft cup bras were soft and I guessed they would be comfortable to wear.  I thought about support, and wondered how that would feel. I guessed, no more jiggling.  That would be nice. I also thought about how the size and shape of my breasts was often evident through my tops, or why else would I get all these comments, so some coverage would be nice, too. Then I thought about the times that my nipples would poke through my tops, clearly visible little hard bumps. Yes, I was all in for some modesty there.

As the day were on, I began more and more to look forward to getting home and getting into one of my mother’s bras. I thought the school day would never end.

And my mind kept coming back to this one bra. It was white with a white lace overlay. And it was anything but the description of a girl’s typical first bra. The cup was underwire, structured push-up, Demi.  It was made by Montgomery Ward. I even had practically memorized every detail about it from the catalog lol. 

When I got home, I raced up to my mother’s bedroom. Pulled off my top and dropped it on the floor. Looking back, my attitude and actions not so different from a woman eager to be in her lover’s embrace.

I had read an article about how to put on your bra. Loop the straps over your shoulders. Lean forward so that your breasts hang down. I even remembered the joke in the article. This is one time that gravity is a girl’s best friend. Line up the bottom of the bra at the base of your breasts. Adjust the shoulder straps if needed, and I did need to lengthen my mother’s, reminding myself to put them back in place afterwards.

All of this, I did in slow motion, because I wasn’t at all experienced. Plus, there was a savoring of every little step.

Once the bra is in the right position vis a vis your breasts, pull the band behind you and clasp behind your back.  The bra had two hook and eye closures, and a few length choice so I chose the loosest.  I had a number of tries and misses. Then I got one, but it was misaligned, so I couldn’t get the second, and had to undo the first. Then I finally got one, and then the other.

Straighten the position of your bra, and then reach into the cups of your bra and do swoop and scoop, adjusting your breasts in each bra cup. I was surprised at how much side tissue I had, and how with swooping and scooping, my bra seemed to gather up everything and use it to fill my bra cups.

I could actually feel myself filling the cups of my bra. I mean, my bra was filled with me!

I could feel how the bra was containing my breasts, from below, in- and out- sides, my nipples, But interestingly enough, the coverage did not extend fully to the tops of my breasts.

I, also, could feel how my breasts were sitting up on a shelf-like padding inside the cups of my bra. It felt really nice having the support of that shelf under my breasts.  My breasts felt plumped up.

I looked in the mirror. I have to admit I was stunned. That bra looked so good on me. I looked really good in a bra.

Pride:  I had a new feeling that I never had before with my breasts. I felt proud I could fill the cups of my mother‘s bra. And I had this crazy thought, I am young and still growing.  I wanted to get bigger!

I loved how my breasts looked in a bra. How a bra looked on me. The conical shape and shallower upper breast had been replaced by a rounder, fuller look.  And my breasts looked so lifted and out there. 

I tried walking around, and you will probably laugh, doing jumping jacks. The jiggling had been replaced by controlled movement of my breasts. 

Epiphany:  I realized I belonged in a bra as much as any girl in my class.  And I wanted to tell everyone who had teased me, that they were right. I did need to wear a bra. Even though they had been mean, I felt like thanking them.  I wished I could show everyone.  Let everyone see how good I looked in a bra. And I wanted to be in a bra as much as I could after that.

[Evolver]

Kudos for being so open, Busty. Around 6 months ago the importance of privately journaling was suggested to me for my own unique story, and I found it to be an extremely cathartic experience. It also turns all those little breadcrumbs into a slice and onwards towards a loaf, enabling a glimpse of the future maybe. And whatever the reason for the journey itself, it is also nice to be able to look back and see how far you've come during times of doubt. 

Thank you.

[Justagirl💃]

My own journey is quite different.

Born intersex, but assigned male at birth I went through quite the process. My mom abandoned me when I was seven so her mother, my grandmother, stepped in to help raise me. Grandma was Raising me as a tomboy, I went to ballet class, piano lessons, learn to knit, learn to sew, and cater weddings including the dresses. This lasted until my early teens.

Puberty brought wide birthing hips and breasts.

I was quite content with who I was other than the problems I had at school in the locker room and of course the constant titty twisters the other classmates would give me. Kids can be so mean.

At about 17 my father stepped in and told my grandmother to butt out. He shopped around for a doctor that would prescribe testosterone treatments and enlisted me into as many sports as he could think of. According to him, it was time to man up.
Of course I failed miserably in all the sports except for tennis and bicycling.

I was taught that I had a birth defect, and society would never accept me for who I was so I had to hide it at all cost. Boy mode was an absolute necessity. That started the baggy shirts, layers, and bib overalls. Of course because of my curves I still had to make my own clothes.

At about 17 years of age I snuck out to go to a party, and somebody slipped me a roofie at the bonfire. I woke up naked about several hours later on the floor of a van in all the other cars were gone. The bonfire had burned down to ashes. I collected my clothes and walked home never to tell my father what had happened because I had snuck out. It seems other kids at school had figured out my secret.

I never dated much for the simple fact that when things got down to that point, it would entail quite the conversation. The few times that I dated were very awkward. When it comes to my first wife I had bigger boobs and much curvier than she was. As for my second wife, we were built about the same. I did however continue in boy mode for about 45 years. I had only try to bra on once in my teens, and it was a perfect fit. It was my cousin's bra. I never wore a bra again until my mid fifties when horrible neck pain was sitting in and the nurse recommended support. Where I was only about a C cup graduating high school, I had grown to a D cup by my fifties. The weight was too much for my neck. I was recommended by the social worker to visit this site about gynecomastia, and told to start wearing support everyday.

Purchasing and wearing bras again got me to reflect upon my youth, and my wonderful experiences I had growing up with Grandma living as a tomboy. Deep down inside I was still the tomboyish little girl that Grandma was raising.

Buying all my bras at Torrid brought me closer to shopping across the aisle, and buying cute outfits at Torrid as well. I came to the realisation that the real me needed to come out again. The last few years has been an interesting Journey, and I no longer own any men's clothing at all. I basically live 100% female. Understandably I still have some male parts, but I also have some female equipment as well. I think being intersex I have a right to choose?

That is basically my journey in a nutshell.

[Busty]

Kudos for being so open, Busty. Around 6 months ago the importance of privately journaling was suggested to me for my own unique story, and I found it to be an extremely cathartic experience. It also turns all those little breadcrumbs into a slice and onwards towards a loaf, enabling a glimpse of the future maybe. And whatever the reason for the journey itself, it is also nice to be able to look back and see how far you've come during times of doubt.

Thank you.

Thank you for the kind words.  Growing up, I kept a journal. It was more description than analysis. I don’t believe I was capable of analysis back then. I was rereading that old journal and realized there are distinctive steps along the way. It was both cathartic for me to share, and I hope it is helpful to others in somewhat similar circumstances  

[Busty]

Justagirl, Thank you for sharing your journey. Yes, different from mine. Probably we are different from others. But we also share similarities. And by sharing our journeys, maybe we help each other. And then helping each other, maybe help ourselves.  

[taxmapper]

The van thing I didn't know about before.  

I posted before that i strongly believe that children can pick up pheromones that are given off and when something doesn't align, they instinctively know one of us "doesn't fit it". 

I had that while growing up and a strong aspect of being called gay, wussy, p8ssy, weeny-gurl, weakling, worthless gurl-boy, and a long list of other not so nice words as well. 

Constantly left out of groups and last to be picked for any team in sports.  Defiantly an outsider. 

Middle school and High School was hell for alot of other reasons.   
It wasn't that I developed breasts, though that did start somewhat around 16ish or so. 

But my father kept referring to me as a "conniving bastard", "panty waist", "worthless girl", and kept saying that I would make someone a good wife some day. 

Lets say our relationship was not the best.   My mother wouldn't tell me anything. 


Ill repeat what happened last month.  My now 95 year old Aunt who had a stroke about 6 months ago I talked with her over the phone and let her know that I had started to develop sizable breasts and other physical aspect not indicative of male. 

(I am 56/57).   She said, "...well, it happens to all of us, you finally there I guess..." 

What she meant, IDK. But I am assuming that she knew I was different and that my body finally caught up.   As I said before, the girls are initiating a hostile takeover and pushing the boys out. 

The one aspect for me is that I have longed for wanting hips, and though extremely slow, I am starting to see something going in that direction. 

[Busty]

Taxmapper, sorry you had that experience growing up. Each of us a bit different, but I believe a common theme is difficult for each of us. 

In some respects, I feel it has made us better people as adults.  More empathy and less judgment.

And definitely more knowledgeable about bras!

[Busty]

I looked online, and I think this may have been the bra, except it was white on white. 

https://www.prettysweetvintage.com/products/i60s-70s-lacy-padded-push-up-bra-34c-36b

[taxmapper]

Taxmapper, sorry you had that experience growing up. Each of us a bit different, but I believe a common theme is difficult for each of us. 

In some respects, I feel it has made us better people as adults.  More empathy and less judgment.

And definitely more knowledgeable about bras!

True that

[gotgyne]

Busty, by reading your story of the various stages from being oblivious to epiphany in the end, I think that this was a huge step in coming to terms with your breasts. Not all boys and young men who develop breasts would do it this way but rather stop with embarrassment. 

In a German forum a female doctor told the story of a young male patient who was desperate of his breasts. He asked her if he should get sexual reassignment surgery to become a woman completely. I commented that he'd have two possibilities that are much more simple, either wearing a bra or getting surgery to remove the breasts if he didn't like them at all and couldn't live with them. She agreed, since she obviously had given him the same advice.

Even girls often have doubts and feel uneasy about their breast development. Embarrassment and camouflaging is not uncommon in them, if you read of the numerous cases of girls who try to hide them and even think of getting surgery to get them removed. In most of the cases such feelings are transitory but the LGBTQ movement nowadays often pushes them into the direction of being transgendered.

The prevalence of gynecomastia is 50% to 60% in adolescents (link to the article below). This is such a high level, that it must become part of biology lessons at school just before puberty sets in. And all the school nurses and teachers (male and female) should know the facts of it (medically, psychologically and sociologically) and be sensitive with boys who develop breasts.

Nevertheless I think that most teachers are way to embarrassed to address it. Such are the boys and their parents. But this is a vicious circle that must be overcome.

https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC2770912/

[Johndoe1]

After years of going through many of the stages dating back to early teen years, it took a serious weight-loss endeavor to finally come full circle to terms with the reality of my chest. I did not want to have a double mastectomy seeing what others had gone through. And the usual barrage of testing to determine where things stood in relationship to my chest, I decided I would fully accept my chest for what it is. My doctor agreed that if I were not having surgery, then I should probably deal with it as women deal with their chests. She recommended, especially during exercising, that being mindful of my breast health, due to my size, would alleviate many potential problems down the road as well as immediate comfort. She did a preliminary breast exam and said she felt normal breast tissue and nothing out of the ordinary. At that point I was all in on acceptance and actively living with my bosom. Bras and other undergarments that enhanced my comfort were all on the table. Gender in clothing meant nothing to me. And still doesn't as I mix clothes labeled male and female as if there is no gender in clothing.

We all have our unique roads on this journey. 

[AlfaQ]

My journey goes like this. As a child I was a massive fan of the famous five books written by Enid Blyton  and my favourite character was George, a tom boy girl. She always had the best adventures and I  really wanted to be her. I  was a clever child and always felt a bit different.  I didn't like the rough stuff but didn't feel that I was gay.  I remember putting on a bra in my teens and enjoyed it. Later in my 20s I  bought some breast forms and put them in a bra and I felt such tremendous comfort that I  never wanted to take them off.  I felt complete for the first time in my life but I  had to hide my secret.  To my surprise in my 40s and 50s Inature has given me my very own breasts and I have a reason to  wear a bra all the time.  I  don't see myself as trans but a man with breasts. 

[blad]

I am sure that a lot of us who develop breasts as a teen go through many of the emotional stages that Busty outlined so well. 

I too was initially a bit oblivious to my early breast development at age 13. But the kids at school were more observant and I began to get snickers in the gym change room and the comments that I needed to wear a bra soon followed with a daily vengeance. 

I too would push off those early comments. But I began to be more aware that I did not look like the other boys in gym class and had bumps on my chest that looked a lot like what the girls were also getting. I began to examine them more in the shower at home and noticed that they did giggle and bounce and felt soft. They would easily fill my cupped hands.

By now I was trying to fly under the radar as much as possible with baggy shirts and slouching posture. But the secret was out from exposure in the gym locker room and the gym "skins" teems. Everyone knew I had boobs and the "suggestions" that I need a bra or questions about "what is your bra size" were a constant daily routine along with a random feel by others.

I did not take long for me to become curious if I did actually fit a bra which lead me to try some of my older sister's bras. I still think back at how amazed I felt trying bras on for the first time and realizing how well my breasts filled the cups. I was surprised at how I liked the feeling of wearing a bra and that I liked how I looked in a bra. I liked looking down at my cleavage held in the bra cups and I felt like I did have real beasts.

I began to realize that the kids at school wear right that I needed a bra and that I did have breasts. I could not admit that to them but inside I wanted to tell them that I did fit a bra and liked wearing one. It was a weird conflict that on the outside I had to deflect these comments but on the inside I knew they were right that I should wear a bra.

I began to like my breasts when wearing a bra and I even began to like feeling them through the bra. I tried to wear a bra as often as I could. If it was not complicated and inconvenient to have breasts and wear a bra at that age I would have otherwise fully accepted my breasts and bras.

As I graduated on to university it became more convenient to wear a bra and my wife has been fully supportive for me to wear one daily. So now at least I am fully at peace with my breasts and wearing a bra for them. 

[Busty]

Another theme that comes out to me in the responses of gotgyne, AlfaQ, Johndoe1, and blad, is that while we accepted the need to wear a bra, we  felt constrained by our social surroundings. We would’ve been happy in bras if everybody else accepted us in bras. 

After I started surreptitiously wearing my mother’s bras, I did have acceptance, understanding, support, and help from some female family members. However, their view, and I believe they were right, was that openly wearing a bra in public was untenable.  

As the rest of my body over time  filled out, and my breasts did not grow beyond their B cup size, and with the belief that I could not openly wear a bra in public, I later went back to denial and camouflage. 

I stayed that way for ages until my breasts started growing again, maybe about 10 years ago.  I eventually got too big to even pretend I could hide. I personally believe that point is a C Cup, which I am now well past. 

With great trepidation, I went in for my first bra fitting, beginning it with the admission that my breasts had now gotten so big that I knew I needed to start wearing a bra.  The two sales associates there, readily agreed that I needed to be wearing a bra. I have essentially been wearing a bra ever since, and it long ago reached where it was second nature.

Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if the sales associates were not accommodating. I suspect it would’ve slowed me down, but not have stopped me.  I was long past denial. And camouflaging clearly no longer an option.  

I had accepted that I had breasts as big or bigger than many women have. I need to wear a bra just like a woman does. And I will be wearing bras for the rest of my life. 

And I like it that way. 

[Puna]

Same here, I was consistently told I needed a bra and other comments.