I’ve been a fat girl all my life, and I don’t remember when I first got my boobs, but when I think about developing, I think of one story from when I was about 8 or 9. I was lying on the couch at my grandparents’ house, with my head on my mom’s lap. She had her arm around me, and her hand on my chest. She kept moving her arm to a position to where I couldn’t breathe very well, so I kept moving her hand back so I would be comfortable. The last time she moved her hand away, I realized the reason she was moving it was that her hand was on my little boob. So, either I could have a hard time breathing and have my mom’s arm around me, or move and not have her arm around me. I chose to choke.