A love story involving a nice, wholesome young woman with enormous breasts, and perhaps the only man on the planet who both loves enormous breasts and can treat a woman who has them like a regular person.
Mature themes in Part 1 include gigantomastia (extremely large breasts), and passing mentions of bullying and sexual abuse.
Part 1 includes the following chapters:
Chapter 1: Tessa’s story
Chapter 2: Brad’s story
Chapter 3: Apologies and new perspectives
Chapter 4: Tessa and Brad meet
Chapter 1: Tessa’s story
[Transcript of worship service message, Belhaven Community Church, Capital City, Sunday, February 29]
Pastor Jason Brubaker:
Good morning, everyone. Today’s message is going to be quite different than normal. I’ve asked a young woman who has been attending our church to give her testimony this morning, because she needs to tell it and I think you all need to hear it. Allow me to introduce her. Her name is Tessa Cartwright and she’s sitting on the front row here. She’s been attending Belhaven for about two months now. You’ve undoubtedly seen her around; she’s quite impossible to overlook.
In the time she’s been here, I’ve received quite a few comments about her from some of you. “Comments” is putting it mildly, actually. More like concerns. Complaints. Demands, even. Many of you have probably made incorrect assumptions about her, and some have made inappropriate accusations against her. I’ve met with Tessa several times and have gotten to know her pretty well. She is quite a remarkable, brave young woman.
Of course, I am mindful that my integrity must be above reproach if I am to be your shepherd, and so my wife Mindy has been with us every time Tessa and I have met. I can say confidently that Mindy thinks as highly of Tessa as I do. And so without further ado, I’ll ask Tessa to come up here and give us her testimony. Tessa? [hesitant applause]
Tessa Cartwright:
Good morning, and thank you, Pastor Brubaker, for allowing me the opportunity to speak to you this morning. My name is Teresa Cartwright, but everyone calls me Tessa. Before I say anything else, let’s first address the two elephants in the room, so to speak. [nervous laughter] You can’t help but notice my unusual physique. It’s due to a medical condition called gigantomastia. “Mastia” means having to do with breasts, and “giganto” should be self-explanatory. This is all me. I do not have any, uh, enhancements. This is how God made me. There’s nothing wrong with me; I’m just very “big”. Okay, that was a major understatement. I’m absolutely massive. [laughter] But I’m completely healthy. There’s no known cause for this condition, and no treatment for it other than reduction surgery, which isn’t always successful, or a complete double mastectomy.
So, now that we have that out of the way, allow me to tell you my story.
I was raised in a fundamentalist church, and I accepted Christ as my savior as a child. As I’m sure you know, fundamentalists have very strict expectations for appearances and behavior, especially for adolescent girls and young women. When I reached puberty, I began to develop, rapidly. Needless to say, this did not go unnoticed. [laughter] And even though I always dressed modestly, that wasn’t good enough.
I was called all kinds of terrible things – a bad influence, a temptress, a slut, and a lot worse. I was just in my early teens, and of course, I wasn’t nearly as big as I am now. I was made to wear heavy, bulky clothing to hide my figure, even in the summer. I was told that I had to be very careful how I moved, so that I didn’t jiggle. I was told that I was “just asking” to be sexually abused. I was made to feel ashamed of my body, like it was somehow my fault. And so I avoided doing anything to make myself attractive, such as wearing makeup. Even so, people glared at me every time I went to church, especially the women. I hated my church and I hated my life and I especially hated my body. My self-esteem was destroyed and I became clinically depressed. I must admit that I thought about ending it all on several occasions.
Among my peers, in church as well as at school, it was no better. Because of the bulky clothing, I looked fat. And so I was called things like “pig” and “fat cow”. I was mocked and tormented. And then there were the boys. None of them could treat me like a normal person. They were either among the mockers, or were intimidated by my proportions and just stammered and looked down at their feet when they had to talk to me, or somehow thought I was fair game to be groped or worse. There were only a few girls who didn’t make my life miserable, and I appreciate them to this day.
My own parents seemed ashamed of me. And they certainly didn’t understand my fragile mental and emotional state. I begged them to get me some help. They took me to a doctor to find out what was wrong with me physically, and I was given the diagnosis of gigantomastia, which simply meant I had enormous breasts but was otherwise healthy. They took me to a plastic surgeon to see about breast reduction surgery, but the surgeon said that it would do no good as long as I was still growing, which I was; that even after the surgery my breasts would just keep growing. I really needed counseling and mental health therapy, and begged my parents to let me talk to someone, but they refused. They said that Christians don’t need therapy because we have God to talk to about our problems. That’s a lie, by the way, but they didn’t know any better.
I prayed countless times to God, asking him why he made me this way, begging him to take this all away and let me just be normal. And he led me to this verse where Paul prayed to God to take away his “thorn in the flesh”, whatever it was. God told Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you; my strength is made perfect in weakness.” In other words, he told Paul that he would just have to live with his condition and depend on him, God, to help him get through it. I didn’t like that answer one bit, but I accepted it.
When I went away to college, I was in no better condition, mentally or emotionally. But there I had the freedom to seek the counseling I knew I desperately needed. First I went to the counseling services offered by the college, but they referred me to a therapist in private practice. You all know her; she’s a member of this church. [waving] Hi, Amanda! Anyway, Amanda worked wonders with me. It took a long time, but she helped me to see that none of this was in any way my fault. That if other people had a problem with me, that they were the ones with the problem, not me. In order to help me overcome the shame I felt in having a body like this, she reminded me that God made me in his own image, and that it was no accident or mistake. I was not a freak; I was just unique. She taught me to not only accept but to embrace my uniqueness; rather than be ashamed of my body I should not only accept it, but should appreciate it and perhaps even be proud of it.
And so, gradually, and with great difficulty, I began to heal emotionally. I stopped hiding under heavy, baggy, unflattering clothing. I began to take pride in my appearance, getting my hair done, wearing makeup, finding stylish clothing to wear. I slowly came out of my shell and began being able to look people in the eye. I began to smile again. I regained my self-confidence. And I eventually came to realize that for the most part, I did not need to be limited or held back by my anatomy. Okay, I know I was not built to run track or play basketball, [laughter] but otherwise, the sky’s the limit. I also came to reject the idea of getting reduction surgery. Because if this was how God made me, who was I to reject it? God wanted me to be the way I am, and so I will be to the best of my ability, and will trust that he knows best.
I was so amazed by how helpful the therapy had been that I decided to become a therapist myself. And so I majored in psychology and got my master’s degree and am now a licensed clinical therapist, working in the same practice with Amanda. And yes, I specialize in treating adolescent girls and women who are struggling with their own body acceptance issues. My career is going well, and I’m proud that I can apply what I’ve experienced and learned, as painful as it might have been, to help other people.
So let’s address some of the things that I’ve been called or have been accused of.
I’m not fat. Losing weight will not help. When I do lose weight, it tends to be everywhere except where you would think. And besides my breasts, I am otherwise very much normal-sized.
I’m no bimbo. I’m quite intelligent and have become independent and successful relying on my God-given intellect and wits, not my body. As I mentioned, I earned a master’ degree, and they don’t just hand those out, even to busty women.
I’m not a flirt. I look people in the eye and smile. I try to be friendly to everyone. I’ve developed an outgoing personality, maybe making up for lost time as an adolescent. But none of that is flirting and should not be interpreted that way.
I’m not a slut or a homewrecker. I have no interest in your husbands or boyfriends. If your man is willing to cheat on you or leave you for me, he’s not worthy of me. I’m not promiscuous. Because of the baggage I still carry, I’m very cautious with my relationships with men.
I’m not a stripper or porn star. I am a good Christian woman. As the cartoon character Jessica Rabbit once said, “I’m not bad; I’m just drawn that way.” [laughter] Really, I have no interest in displaying my wares. I get more than enough attention as it is.
Yes, I know I jiggle when I move. A lot. But please understand I am not doing this to be provocative or to seek attention. It simply can’t be helped. As I’ve explained, I will no longer hide behind bulky clothing or restrict my movements. I’m too confident for that now, and besides, I don’t think it would matter anymore. So, I’m going to wear the same styles that other women wear, just in a way bigger size up top. Sometimes that’s going to mean I’m showing some cleavage. Believe me, I have a lot of cleavage, and again, it can’t be helped. I’m going to walk normally. I’m going to use the stairs rather than a handicapped ramp or elevator when I can. I’m going to clap my hands and sway to music. I’ll even dance when I want to. Jiggling and wobbling is just going to happen whether anyone likes it or not.
I don’t want women to think of me as a threat or a rival. I hope that the disapproving looks I get from a few of you would end. If you don’t like how your husband is looking at me or behaving toward me, please take it up with him, not me. If I think your husband has crossed the line, I’m going to take it up with first him and then you. He’s not as unable to resist as he would have you think. I would like to think that other women would be my allies, especially those who have also been the victims of sexual abuse.
I certainly don’t want men to objectify me, though I realize that’s an impossible dream. I see you staring at me. I try to ignore it, but it’s creepy, so if that’s you, please just stop. I am so much more than just a pair of gigantic boobs with a head and legs sticking out, and I want to be recognized and appreciated for all of what I am. I would like for the older men to think of me as a daughter rather than a temptation.
I really, really don’t want anyone’s pity. If anything, I would like your admiration for overcoming a lot of difficulties and even trauma that could have easily destroyed me.
Now, I know you must have a lot of questions, but this really isn’t the time or place for a Q and A forum. But let me just go ahead and answer a few of the common, easy questions.
Do my big assets make my back hurt? No. They used to, but not anymore. When I was in college I was able to make use of the gym and was instructed on exercises to build up my back muscles. Those made a tremendous difference and I continue to do those exercises today.
Isn’t it difficult to find clothes and bras that fit properly? Absolutely yes. I’m way too big up top for anything close to normal sizes. Sizes for extremely obese women aren’t proportioned correctly since I’m only big in one place. Most of my clothes have to be significantly altered or custom made. But I wear normal sizes in skirts, shorts, and pants.
Do my bras dig into my shoulders and cause pain? That used to be a problem, but I’ve learned by trial and error what works and what doesn’t, and since I have them all custom-made, I can specify how I want them made so that they won’t hurt. By the way, custom bras with as much material and reinforcement as I need are extremely expensive.
Do my boobs get in the way sometimes? Do I tend to collide into things with them? Yes to the first question, and no to the second. Actually, they get in the way pretty much all the time. I have to put my car seat so far back that I can’t reach the pedals without having modifications made to them. I have to be careful when cooking on a stove that I don’t set them on fire. [laughter] I don’t wear shoes that have to be laced or buckled because I can’t reach them with both hands. Some tasks that require two hands, I find easier to do behind my back than the normal way. I could go on and on. But as part of accepting the body I’ve been given, I’ve learned to take all of that in stride. It’s just part of what it means to be me. However, I’ve had plenty of time to develop a keen sense of where my body is in space and I’m able to gracefully navigate around obstacles.
Am I worried that I’m going to be attacked by some pervert? Every woman has to worry about that. And yes, I have been, more than once. But part of my journey in gaining self-confidence involved learning how to protect and defend myself. I’m not going to go into detail for what should be obvious reasons, but I’ve become proficient in martial arts. I carry and know how to use self-defense weapons. And I have a big, scary looking dog who’s very loyal and trained to attack on command. I feel quite safe.
Do I hope to marry someday? Yes, very much so. But it will have to be to a man who can appreciate not only my body but the rest of me as well, who truly loves me, and respects me the way I am. I am so done changing to meet other people’s expectations. There aren’t many men who can fill that order, but I know I deserve nothing less. By the way, ladies, you deserve nothing less, either.
Am I able to have children? [laughter] I really do get asked this. As far as I know, my ability to bear children is completely normal. Do I worry that my daughters will inherit my anatomy? Not at all. First, I have no idea whether my condition is hereditary. None of my female family members are big like me. But if I do someday have a daughter who develops gigantomastia, I will be uniquely equipped to help her navigate it without all of the trauma I had to endure growing up. There are far worse problems in life than to have giant boobs.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to introduce myself to you. I hope this has been helpful in clearing up some misconceptions. I look forward to getting to know you all better. God bless you.
[Thunderous applause]
Chapter 2: Brad’s story
Brad Collins couldn’t believe his good fortune. It was his first time attending Belhaven Community Church. He had been drawn there, like many other young single adults, by the church’s reputation for having a vibrant singles ministry. The Bible study, or Sunday School, came first, and then the worship service. All of the single adults met briefly together as a large group, and then broke into small groups for the actual Bible study. Much to his delight, he saw that there was a beautiful girl with gigantomastia in the large group. Not glamorous like Ginger, but more wholesome and cute like Mary Ann, except that her breasts were the size of beach balls. She seemed surprisingly well-adjusted enough, too – she was attractively dressed, and looked at people and smiled and engaged in conversation.
Brad didn’t get his hopes up too much about her, though. He had a strong attraction to very large-breasted girls, but then so did a lot of guys. Many of these girls were leery of advances by men, and more than a few had rejected any efforts on his part to get to know them better. Some of them were lesbians and had zero interest in any man. In the few brief relationships he had had, he discovered that the girls, or women, usually hated their breasts and were seeking reduction surgery as soon as they could arrange it. Besides, in most cases they were otherwise physically unattractive, or had significant psychological issues, or both. Recently, he had dated a few busty women who actually liked their breasts, but all of them had had implants put in. Brad didn’t want a girl with fake boobs. Only real ones would do. However, none of these previous girls or women were remotely as huge as this one.
Brad kept his distance and didn’t engage the girl with gigantomastia. Not yet, anyway. He knew that if he were to have any chance with her, he would have to play it cool and get to know her first. Besides, waiting might give him the chance to find out if she had any deal-breaker issues before he made his move. So Brad was beyond thrilled when he discovered that the guest speaker in the worship service that morning was none other than Giga Girl, as he was calling her at least until he learned her name, and she was telling her life story.
Brad found her story, and her, intriguing. Her name, he learned, was Tessa. Not surprisingly, she, too, had hated her body and had some deep psychological scars, but she seemed to have worked through those issues and had come out the other side amazingly well. She intended to keep her boobs; she even said that she was proud of them, or something to that effect. And she said she hoped to marry someday if she met the right man. That implied that she hadn’t found him yet. She seemed like everything Brad had ever wanted in a girl.
Brad was also fascinated by her statement that none of the women in her family had had gigantomastia before her. Brad was very curious about how Tessa had developed the condition, for both personal and professional reasons. Personally, gigantomastia ran in his own family. His sisters, his mother, his maternal aunts and grandmother, and so on, all had it and were comparable in size to Tessa. It was clearly passed down from a woman to her daughters, and then to their daughters, and so on. Professionally, Brad was a geneticist, a scientist in the field of genetic research. He had been drawn to this field by his own family history, and worked at State University on a federal research grant studying the genetics behind why breast cancer sometimes ran in families. But Brad’s real interest was to discover how gigantomastia was passed down genetically, and he made the time to research this when he could.
Brad’s family history meant that he was completely at ease around women with enormous breasts. To him, they were just normal women who happened to look a certain way. He was comfortable in their presence; indeed, he preferred to be in their presence. They were familiar and comfortable to him. And so, Brad wanted nothing more than to be in a long-term relationship with and eventually marry such a woman.
Brad’s hometown was Robertsville, a small town about two hours west of Capital City, where he now lived and worked. His entire family, at least on his mother’s side, had lived in and around Robertsville for many generations. Brad’s father was also a local boy and had gone to school with his mother and aunts. Robertsville was known informally as “Bobville”, but some people had taken to calling it “Boobville” because of all the extremely large-breasted women who lived there. However, those women kept a fairly low profile there and rarely traveled elsewhere, and so not many outsiders knew about them, which is just how they wanted it. But all of the big-boobed women in Robertsville were his own relatives. Brad knew he would have to leave Boobville to find a life partner.
Brad’s family were churchgoing people, like many living in small towns and rural places, and Brad was raised going to church every Sunday, no question about it. He had also accepted Christ as his savior as a child. When he moved away to attend college and then to work, like many kids raised in the church, he didn’t make the effort to find a church in his new location, and got out of the habit of attending. But after his few experiences dating women who had had breast enhancement surgery, he realized more and more that deep down he wanted a relationship with a wholesome Christian girl. It felt familiar and comfortable, just like his affinity for large-breasted women. And so Brad did some poking around on the internet looking for church that seemed to be a good fit for him, and ended up at Belhaven that morning.
Chapter 3: Apologies and new perspectives
After the worship service, Tessa had a crowd of people surround her. One after another, they told her how much they admired her bravery, both for persevering through her life challenges and for standing up and baring her soul and speaking openly about them. More than a few apologized for having wrongly judged her or for having given her some of the dirty looks she had spoken of, and thanked her for setting them straight. A few of the women couldn’t help but to give her a hug, being careful to work around her prominent curves. A couple of people asked her for business cards, saying that they knew someone who might benefit from her professional services.
Amanda was among the crowd, and waited for her turn to speak to Tessa. Amanda, of course, had known Tessa for quite a few years, and they had hugged on too many previous occasions to count. So Amanda came in for a full frontal hug.
Amanda: I’m so proud of you, girl! I had no idea you were going to do that! You’ve come such an incredible way since you first came to see me. Could you even imagine back then that you’d ever be in a position to be able to say what you did today? Could you even imagine that you’d have the poise and confidence to stand up and say it? The way you called out the people who were not treating you the way you deserve to be treated, that was amazing! You did it with both truth and grace.
Tessa: I wouldn’t have dared to imagine such things. I was such a mess back then. I couldn’t even look you in the eye. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done to get me to where I am now.
Amanda: It was you who did all the hard work to get here. I was just there to guide you. And now you’re guiding those who have come behind you. You’re an incredible person, Tessa, and I’m proud to have been part of your journey.
Tessa: Thank you Amanda, that means so much to me!
Tessa continued to receive people who wanted to speak to her until she was one of the last ones there.
Beginning the following week, Belhaven Church was a much different place. Everyone knew Tessa by name now, and many made a point of greeting her with a smile and a hello, or at least with a smile and a wave. The disapproving looks and stares were mostly gone. Tessa was really glad she had found the nerve to address the congregation.
Chapter 4: Tessa and Brad meet
A few weeks later, the Belhaven single adults group held a social gathering in the church fellowship hall. Brad wouldn’t miss it for the world, hoping that Tessa would be there. Tessa had noticed the handsome new guy who had been attending for the past few weeks, and came hoping that he would be there as well. She didn’t know his name or anything about him, but he had a way of looking at her that somehow put her at ease, which was a rare quality in a man. That is to say, he didn’t avoid looking directly at her, but he didn’t leer or stare, either. He just smiled. And so, they ended up at the punch bowl at the same time. Brad broke the ice.
Brad: Hello, Tessa. My name’s Brad Collins. That was quite a speech you gave a few weeks back. You have quite an interesting life story. You certainly have overcome a lot of adversity and that’s admirable.
Tessa: Nice to meet you, Brad. Thank you. You’re pretty new here, aren’t you? I mean, I’m pretty new here, but you’re even newer, right?
Brad: Yep. The day you gave your life story was my first time here. I really feel that God led me here on that day just to hear that. But I have a question for you. You said how much you came to hate church because of the way you were treated as a teen. But yet you’re here in church. If it had been me, I don’t know if I’d ever set foot in a church again.
Tessa: I don’t think I actually heard a question there, but I understand what you’re asking. [they both smile] Yes, I hated church. But I hated school, too. And while I was glad to get away from my high school, it didn’t stop me from going to college. Things weren’t perfect at college, but they were greatly improved, mostly because everyone there was more mature, including me. Plus, I was working on my issues, and developing better coping mechanisms for when problems did arise. And even when I wanted nothing to do with church, and was questioning God about why he made me this way, I always felt his love and so I never stopped trusting him. I saw that he is good and faithful and he got me through my darkest times and made me stronger from having gone through them. So eventually, I realized that God wanted me back in fellowship with other believers, like he wants all of us to be. I also realized that what I experienced in my home church had little to do with what I might experience in a different church, in a different denomination, in a different city, in a different phase of my life.
Tessa notices that Brad seems completely at ease with her. He’s not looking at her chest, but neither is he furiously making eye contact to avoid looking at her chest. He’s making eye contact, sure, but in a normal, natural way. He seems to be taking in the view of all of her. And he’s genuinely listening to what she has to say. Not many people, male or female, seem to be able to do any of that. And so she begins to feel at ease with him as well.
Tessa: So when I came here, most people were pleasant enough, even if I felt their awkwardness around me. But that happens everywhere I go, at least until people get to know me. Yes, there were a few people giving me the stink eye and whispering behind my back. And there were people staring at me, especially men. But those things happen everywhere I go, too, and I’ve learned how to deal with it. I realize that most people have never seen someone shaped like me before. And the best way to deal with it is to face it head on, but in a non-confrontational way.
Tessa: That’s why I asked the pastor if I could address the congregation. He had seen the stares and heard more than an earful from members of the congregation about me, and was unsure what to do. So he asked to meet with me, which I readily agreed to, and we talked about it. I gave him pretty much the same story that you heard, and I set his mind at ease that I wasn’t any of the things I was being accused of, and I wasn’t here to cause trouble. He realized that I was here just to worship God and fellowship with other believers just like anyone else, and how could he or anyone else object to that? He agreed with me that it was the other people that needed to be set straight, not me, and that my giving my testimony was probably the best first step towards doing that.
Brad: Wow. Tessa, you are a strong, resilient woman, and wise beyond your years.
Tessa: Thank you for that. Really. I wasn’t always this way, and I never get tired of hearing people acknowledge it. Now I have a question for you. There’s something different about you, and I can’t put my finger on it. You seem comfortable and relaxed talking to me. It’s very noticeable, at least to me, and it’s causing me to feel comfortable and relaxed as well. That very rarely happens, especially with someone I’ve just met.
Brad: I don’t think I actually heard a question there, but I understand what you’re asking. [They both laugh as Brad quotes Tessa verbatim from just a few minutes earlier.] Fair question, and I’m glad you noticed. You see, I’ve been around women with gigantomastia my entire life. It runs in my family. So you’re not a freak to me. You’re just a normal person who’s been thrust into a very abnormal situation, and dealt with it very successfully. You’re someone clearly worth getting to know better, I might add.
Tessa: I’ve never met anyone else with my condition. I mean, I know they’re out there, but I’ve had to navigate my gigantomastia completely solo. Your relatives must draw strength from each other, having that in common. And I think you’re someone clearly worth getting to know better, too.
Brad: Would it be too forward of me to ask for your phone number?
Tessa: Ordinarily, I would never give my number to a man I just met. I’m very cautious about that sort of thing, because there are a lot of creeps and pervs out there. But I feel completely at ease with you. I can’t explain it. I may live to regret this, but I have a good feeling about it. Here you go.
Brad: Thanks. I’ll be in touch.
Tessa: You’d better!
The rest of the evening was a complete blur for both Tessa and Brad. They went their separate ways, and talked to other people and participated in the activities. But neither of them could stop thinking about the other. Tessa had never met anyone like Brad, who could so quickly and effortlessly put her completely at ease. He treated her like a real person, not a giant pair of boobs attached to a person. He seemed to completely “get” her. And he seemed to genuinely value her for being her. Brad likewise felt that he had finally met the woman of his dreams. But she was different than he would have expected, much different than his relatives. She had had a much more difficult life, with very little support or help from anyone, and yet here she was, rocking her best life. She was much stronger of a person for having gone through her experiences. She had accomplished things that his family members would have never dared to attempt. And he really, really admired that.