OPINION: I know a few girls who are members of the fake boobs brigade.
These are girls who once had cute, small, perky breasts who decided that a handful simply wasn't enough.
As a girl who has always had a naturally large bosom, I just can't understand these girls who think that in order to be desirable they need to invest in saline or silicone.
I know the grass is always greener on the other side, but I don't know why bigger boobs are seen as being better.
Where's the fun in having boobs that turn into skin-encased slinkies the minute you have to walk at a brisk pace, or to know that in years to come, with the onset of age, gravity and children, my boobs will probably sag so far down they will comfortably rest on my knees without the help of a futuristic support bra?
Plus there's the jealousy and rage I feel every time I walk into Target or a lingerie store to buy bras.
All the cute, playful, fun bras are reserved for those lucky girls who have little lemons protruding from their chests, not great, big watermelons.
And don't get me started on the horror of the strapless bra.
Now I will admit, strapless bras are probably not a cakewalk for any woman, but for me they are an instrument of torture.
I decided I would indulge in the torturous search for a decent strapless bra in a Hervey Bay lingerie shop recently.
I tried on several that could barely contain my bulging boobs.
Some were okay in the cup but didn't fit comfortably around the chest.
It was a nightmare.
Then, lo and behold, the woman assisting me helped me find the perfect strapless bra.
It was a size too small, but she used an extender to make it fit.
And the cups. The cups - oh my God, the cups.
It was the first time I've felt "well secured" in a strapless bra in years.
I almost cried, and I have intermittently thought of that bra with a sense of happiness and satisfaction ever since I bought it.
One should not feel that pleased or excited over a well-fitting bra, but this is what a well-endowed bust will do to you.
Don't even talk to me about swimwear.
Obviously 99.9% of bikinis are out of the question and most of the 0.1% remaining are, in a word, hideous.
Tank tops are okay, but I have a very important word for you - under wire.
The occasionally tankini will fit well without the need for the cruellest and most constricting invention of all, that savage under wire that somehow makes boobs stay where they are meant to while bobbing about in the ocean or swimming pool.
But most of the time, I'm dependent on under wire to do its thing and finding affordable swimwear that has it can be a bit of a challenge sometimes.
I don't yet have back pain, but I know it can't be far away and the idea does not appeal to me.
The fleeting thought of going the other way and getting a breast reduction - the anti-boob job if you will - has sometimes crossed my mind.
But the cost and thought of a surgical procedure don't appeal to me.
Plus there's a lot to be said for learning to like your body with all its faults and deficits and the challenges that come with that.
I try not to whinge too much about my bigger bust.
At the end of the day, these boobs are my buddies.
We're like old friends and we've gone through the many trials and tribulations of life together.
I know that I'm lucky to have reached some stage of acceptance of both my body and my boobs when there are girls out there right now, taking their B or C cup to a DD cup.
They will soon know the exquisite torture of never being able to leave the house without a bra on again.
Of holding back laughter when those tops with the little "inbuilt" bras don't even come close to doing the job.
That feeling of dropping a pen, bending over to retrieve it, and screaming as two mountainous lumps of flesh threaten to crush your face between the hilly peaks.
Or running down the street and almost being physically assaulted by your own cleavage.
To those girls I can only say: I hope one day you too can learn to love the skin you're in.