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At the time, I was running four miles a day, panting through countless crunches, and bleeding sweat on the Stairmaster at the gym, and for what?Well, like every other woman in America, I wanted to feel sexy.But more than that, I wanted to look sexy for my soon-to-be husband. My hunt for sultry lingerie and swimsuits for our Cancun honeymoon had sent me into hysterics. My breasts looked as shapeless as deflated beach balls and had the texture of tissue paper.I was also a virgin, so in a way, the stakes were even higher for my wedding night. My tummy was scarred with spidery stretch marks and excess skin.7 Greatest Things About Having A Small Chest Three years before, I'd had epic breasts.Robust double Ds had poured forth from my voluptuous V-neck when I weighed my heaviest: 230 lbs.
I dolled them up in push-up bras and padding for three years after losing weight but eventually learned to love them for what they are: no longer round and robust like tomatoes, but withered like wilted leaves of lettuce.Inner Beauty: What Men Don't Tell You At nineteen years old, I had never been kissed.My girlfriends said I just hadn't found "the one," but I was convinced it was because I was big.My fiancé had seen the stretch marks, and he still wanted to marry me. I was wearing a pretty party dress when he introduced himself to me, and several months later we became a couple.He never knew the girl I was just a year before, shrouded in hoodies and oversized T-shirts.