I’m not mad at my boobs… anymore. But I was for a while. Once I let go of the fantasy of magical boob-change via potions or exercises, it was like, “Hang on. You’re saying I’m stuck with these things 24 hours a day and yet I get no say in what kind I have? Thanks a ton, boob fairy.”

For the many years that I was in a fight with my boobs, my verybestfriend-intheentireworld Mars and I would kvetch to each other about our yin and yang boob issues. She thought she was “too small,” I thought I was “too big,” and both of us wasted a lot of our precious youth hating on our chests in earnest. But you know what? We got over it. Here’s how.

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