Hi — Hello, my eyes are up here…

You do realize you’re staring at my boobs, right?

Have you ever had a guy make eye contact with your boobs before he actually looks you in the eye? Well, I know I sure have. Sometimes I wonder if they’re actually thinking about my breasts, or if they’re just somehow neurologically impaired. Perhaps there’s some loose nerve ending in their brain that just never fully connected, causing the eyes to settle on breasts, naturally. I’m not sure of a diagnosis, but I do know its a wonderfully pleasant situation I’ve found myself in more than once.

I remember when I was first told that I had a nice rack. I was either a freshman or sophomore in high school, and man, was that an ego booster. I mean, for someone to notice your boobs under a hideous Catholic school uniform, that’s got to mean something, right? From that day onward I had a little pep in my step, knowing that even though academics were difficult, girls were bitches, and my parents were on the edge of divorce, at least I had a nice set of knockers.

My breasts and I have been through a lot. Nothing like your high school boyfriend fondling you for the first time, and then having him stop and say, “What is this lump?”

Yep, I found out I had a breast lump thanks to my horny teenage boyfriend of sophomore year. Thanks, man. Needless to say, I instantly had a panic attack. But it was okay, because my sweet boyfriend held me while I cried and said, “I don’t get why you’re crying.” (There really must be something wrong in the brain here…)

Of course I felt better after that sympathetic comment.

Shortly after that discovery I went to the doctor and had biopsies done, and they found that it wasn’t cancerous, but I needed to keep monitoring it. About two years later I started feeling like maybe the lump was getting bigger, and in fact, it was. At this time I was no longer with the fondler, but with a new, more insensitive guy.

I found out that my lump was growing oddly and rapidly and the best course of action was surgery, just to be safe. Wahoo. At 18 years old, this was a huge deal to me, like I’m sure it would be for any woman at any age. A million scenarios were flying through my mind: Did I have cancer? Would I recover OK after surgery? Would it be a big scar? I can’t even remember everything that was going through my mind, but if I was in a cartoon there would be smoke coming out of my ears, due to my brain being unable to process so many worries at once. There was not a day that went by that I didn’t freak out about going under the knife.

I didn’t tell my boyfriend at first, mostly because I didn’t want to face the fact that this was happening. I do remember the moment I told him though, like it was yesterday. I was having one of those days where I didn’t want to be bothered. However, he came over to bother me anyways, and I decided I might as well just tell him. I was hoping maybe he would comfort me, and then I’d know everything would be all right. He asked me a general question like, “What have you been up to today?” and I bluntly responded saying that I was getting surgery. You should’ve seen the look of sheer distraught on his face. His expression went from confused, to pensive, to confused again, and then, in his most sensitive manner, he proceeded to ask me, “Are they, like, going to, like, deflate?”

Yes, take a moment to process that.

Are my breasts going to deflate because I have to get a lump removed from them? Yes, my friends, this was what he was most worried about. God forbid his girlfriend go down a cup size. I’m sure I look insane writing this right now, because I’m sitting here laughing my ass off. It still baffles me how stupid that comment was. I kicked him out of my house shortly after.

A couple months passed by, and the surgery day was upon me. I swear I had never been so afraid in my life. The moment when I had to head into the OR was probably the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. Luckily, my parents made a lot of sacrifices and had me with the best doctor available. Surgery went smoothly and I recovered exceptionally well. A few weeks later I received my results. I am lump free, and most importantly cancer free!

All in all, this whole experience was a huge eye-opener. All you ladies reading this, please exam yourselves regularly. Being proactive is so important. Also, please exam your guy of interest. There’s some real halfwits out there.

And guys — stop staring.

Images via weknowmemes.com & thedorkavenger.tumblr.com