Being a woman is something that is not objective. Depending on the context and the culture, being a woman means different things and requires different behaviors, manners and attitudes. As any other role of the society, after all.
For me the experience of being a woman started when I was in the medium school (between 11 and 14 years old) and boys started to look at us in a different way, doing very obscene and ingenuous jokes about sex, kisses and genitals. Us, girls, on the other hand, started to look at our growing curves, comparing them and trying to make predictions for the future, and to talk about make up, clothes and cute actors and singers.
There was a clear divide between the “avandguard” ones and the ones still playing with dolls or at football with their male mates, ignoring the fashion and being classified as “slow”. The “avandguard” were the ones who started first to talk about kisses and strange interpersonal contacts between people of different genders. To me they were also the most nasty, since they also liked to spend their times making fun of the poor other girls, who were not as “fashion” and as “grown-up” as they were.
Slowly it became more normal to have a different kind of approach with the other gender. We got used to the jokes and learnt also how to answer.
But for the most traumatic part of being a woman was to be “supposed” to have tits. And my problem was: my tits were as small as cherries and every male friend would not avoid making jokes and remarks about my situation every time they had the chance. They were, for me, doubting of my femininity and my authenticity as a woman, while I definitely felt to be one of them and I was since the beginning pretty proud of it. It didn’t change the fact that I grew up with the complex of having a very timid breast, which never decided to grow, unfortunately.
This trauma is still reflected in my everyday life and I guess it will always be. Indeed I think about tits. I look other women’s tit, judge their size and wondering if they are proud, conscious or totally indifferent to them. For a long time I was really angry to the nature, to my mother and my ancestors for not allowing me do have a decent sized tits, as every woman is supposed to have. This idea came quite naturally to me, as I was watching women in movies, tv shows and series and yes, they all had big tits. How come, I was wondering, I was not entitled of such a privilege? And why on earth was I to be blamed, according to my male friends, of this fact?
These answers are still waiting for an answer. But the point is: how tits are important for women’s identity? How many times in a day a woman thinks about her, or other people’s tits? Am I the only tits-obsessed woman?