A Teeny Tiny Bikini Top Helped Me Embrace My Hotness

When I was 15, I did what many teenage girls did — I stuffed my bra. As a late bloomer who got her first period at that age, I had to come up with rather… inventive ways to gain the attention of my school crushes. I’d ‘borrow’ my older sister's bright pink push-up bra, unbutton my top button, and get stuffing. Sometimes with tissues, sometimes socks, sometimes scrunchy headbands (an objectively questionable decision). The endless pursuit of titties. 

But this pursuit was short-lived. By the time I hit my 20s, my B cup had miraculously transformed into an F. If 15-year-old me could have seen me then, she would've been shocked — and stoked. But like many big-busted women, I skipped the seven stages of grief and went straight into denial. I religiously wore minimiser bras (in the wrong size, of course) in an attempt to hide what was lurking below. I don’t think my décolletage saw the light of day for another ten years, thanks to my penchant for high-neck tops. Even now, baggy clothing, especially band tees, are a staple in my wardrobe thanks to their clever ability to conceal. The concept of having my chest on display wasn’t just incredibly uncomfortable — it was pure nightmare fuel. 

This experience is almost universal for anyone who lives in a big-breasted body. When you’re well endowed, you naturally navigate the world — and clothing — differently than smaller-busted babes. Sexual comments and catcalling are perceived as having been invited, because after all, your chest is out on display, right? Eternal ogling (Hello! My face is up here!). Feeling a need to ‘cover up’, despite wearing the same top as a smaller-busted friend. Wearing two, or even three sports bras to a HIIT gym class (and even then, the incessant bouncing!). 

For many, our growing busts come with an overwhelming feeling of being unfamiliar and disconnected from our bodies. In my experience, this is propelled by our unique relationship with clothing, and how, in many instances, it’s just not made with big busts in mind. Yes, while big boobs are often heralded as an ideal beauty standard, clothing is still not made with large busts in mind, making for an intensely infuriating and frustrating experience. That is, until recently. 

In the last few years, dedicated swimwear brands created for larger busts have emerged, including Marvell Lane, Form & Fold, and RAQ. This is huge news because big-breasted babes, especially curvy ones, have often been relegated to the back corner of swimwear stores, with our options often limited to ‘tummy control’ swimwear, tankinis, or athletic full-body swimsuits. 

As a young girl, I recall lusting after one of those Roxy bikinis that everyone wanted to wear (you know, the one with the triangle top). After begging my mum for yonks, I finally got one. Despite being the largest size, it was still absolutely too small for my body. The top barely covered my chest. As I made the ever-graceful stomp back to my towel after a dip in the ocean, I could feel the eyes of a group of boys on me. Even worse, I could hear them making comments about me — that I was too big for my bikini. There are three things that irreparably shatter your self-confidence: boys, beaches, and boys at beaches. I’ve had my fair share of beach-related trauma (girls with sensory processing issues and a bunch of sand just do not mix), but this incident probably takes the cake. 

That’s probably what makes my next move even more perplexing. As a 30-year-old woman, I made a trip to a specialty bra store, marched straight to their swimwear section, and bought the skimpiest bikini top my tatas could fit into.

As soon as I put the Multi-Way bikini top from RAQ on, I could feel something inside me shift (to be clear, this isn't a sponsored post). At first glance, this was a rather simple black triangle bikini top. But unlike every other triangle bikini top, it was made for people with bodies like mine). While many other brands have tried — and failed — to capitalise on the big-busted market, I was finally wearing something that felt like it was truly made for me. And yes, it happened to give me the best-looking rack of my life.

It might sound silly, but through one simple bikini top, I felt an unmatched sense of boob euphoria. I saw my Roxy bikini and those boys laughing at me. I saw all those years I forced myself into a more 'flattering' swimsuit — one that would cover my body in its entirety.

I often fantasise about dream outfits. But because of my size, they often stay in my head and never eventuate into a reality. Yes, some of them involve cute mini-dresses and cowboy boots, but others are far more simple. Denim cut-off shorts and a triangle bikini top (ideally while sauntering through Europe). No, it's not groundbreaking by any means. It's not even a creative outfit. But to me, it represents something bigger — that even basic clothing can be made with any body shape or bust in mind. That we can be hot, Jessica Simpson-Daisy Duke wearers regardless of our size.

A week before my 30th birthday, I finally walked down the beach in Malaga, Spain, in a pair of denim shorts, a thrifted belt, and my black triangle bikini top.

While I've often been uncomfortable, scared, or just downright pissed off if I see someone looking at me for too long, my outfit made me feel like a new woman. Yes, I saw men ogle me as I walked past them. I saw a bunch of blokes tap each other to watch me as I walked past them. I saw people look at my chest, then my face, then my chest again. And while I can't say that I'll ever be completely comfortable with these types of reactions, I can say that, for what felt like the first time in my life, I actually wanted to be perceived. I was no longer imagining becoming a hot and carefree version of myself — I was her. And I wanted everyone to know it.

In a reaction against my bust size and my body, I've spent so many years almost trying to pretend like my body didn't exist in the first place. I've covered myself up in baggy clothes in an attempt to hide every crease and curve of my body. I've dressed in masculine clothes to channel an element of toughness and to avoid the looks that come with dressing overtly feminine. I've tried to protect myself through my clothing. I rarely wear anything revealing. I never sexualise myself.

But I shouldn't have to. I should feel like I'm able to look sexy and hot because I am sexy and hot. I should be able to wear revealing clothes and enjoy eyes on me, without feeling uncomfortable or in danger. I should be able to wear cut-offs and a bikini top, even though I might be a bit larger than other people. I want to be looked at. I want to be admired. I want to be desired. I want to be hot. At least, once a year during summer holidays in Europe (or Mexico, I don't mind).

Yes, it's still a novelty to have the girls on display after all these years of keeping them as my own little secret. And yes, after I got home, I went straight back to the oversized band tees and turtlenecks — old habits die hard, after all. But there's a strange sense of solace in knowing that I have the choice to opt into feeling sexy. That my clothing doesn't have to be either cool or cute — it can just be something that makes me feel hot and express my sexuality. After so many years of pretending that my body didn't exist or that I needed to hide it, I feel a sense of liberation to have control over my body and how I'm perceived. Yes, it's just a simple black triangle bikini. And yes, I look sexy as hell in it.