I started wearing a bra at the age of 10

Written by Fatin Nazmin

Style - Beauty

Tags: body image | self-confidence | underwear

t was humiliating. There were these ... THINGS that stuck out and entered a room before I did. The iron-on decals on my little-girl-sized "Hello Kitty" t-shirts were stretched to oblivion. Poor Kitty was simply never supposed to look that way.

A couple years later, however, everything changed. The burgeoning bustline I'd fought so hard to hide suddenly became an asset - the same boys who'd wrinkled their noses at the very thought of spending time with a girl now went out of their way to talk to me. My friends bought bras and began stuffing them with toilet paper in the hopes someone would be interested in squeezing it.

By the time I was 15, I had an adult (not to mention a porn-star) bustline - 103cm. Thank god it stopped there. Still, I wasn't comfortable being a little girl with a woman's body. And at that age I certainly didn't realise the benefits it would later provide.

Off and on throughout the years I've wished "the girls" (as I call them) were smaller, less obtrusive. I can't wear the same skimpy little tops my waifish friends wear without looking like I'm flaunting my assets. When I exercise I have to wear not one but two sportsbras. I have back problems. Men don't talk to my face. I'm branded "easy" and brainless.

Fortunately none of this came as a surprise. Big breasts run in my family, so, speaking from experience, my mom was forthright. "You'll have to be twice as smart to get half the respect," she told me. She was right. Taking her words to heart, I got good grades and a degree. But that doesn't mean I also didn't learn to put "the girls" to good use.

In university there were times I partied a little too hard and missed an assignment. As long as the professor was male, the problem was fairly easily resolved. An after-class meeting in a snug sweater or a blouse with one extra button undone normally bought me the extra time I needed. I never tried to actually win grades this way, but if those teachers occasionally gave me an extra point or two to push me from a 2 to an 1, I didn't complain.

Empowered by the subtle perks I got in school, I learned "the girls" were good for other things as well. I'm a good driver and haven't had an accident for years but I also have the unintentional habit of being "fashionably late" almost all the time, which means I have the tendency to speed. I get pulled over a lot, but a cop standing next to my car looking down at me has a hell of a vantage point on my cleavage. I can't remember the last penalty I had to pay.

I'm less likely to use "the girls" on the job, though - I never wanted anyone to think I'd be the resident noon time quickie queen. But during the years I was a casino poker dealer in Macau, I made more in tips every night than my male co-workers.

Poker players are, by and large, men. Men who often have ego problems and want the Malaysian bombshell to think highly of them, like I was some kind of SPG. If they thought throwing money at me would do the trick, who was I to say no?

Let me make something perfectly clear, however ... I don't pimp myself out. When I'm in situations where respect for my intelligence matters, I earn it. Anyone who hires me thinking he's getting a bimbo will be sorely disappointed.

Back when I was single, wealthy older men looking for a showpiece that would make them the envy of their friends routinely asked me out. I didn't accept. I never dated anyone based on how much money he had. I always insisted on paying for half of dinner or the movies or whatever other costs the date incurred. Personal interactions require a different set of rules.

"Attractive girls can always marry into money," my mother used to say, "but there are strings attached." I don't like strings. So instead, I've gotten an education and taken care of myself financially.

I know where and when not to use "the girls". Directly and indirectly they're a source of power - they've saved me money, earned me money, given me second chances where I perhaps wouldn't otherwise have gotten them. If it truly is a man's world, as they say, then I'm just twisting that around for my own benefit.

My breasts open doors for me - there's no doubt about it. But once I walk through that door, staying inside depends on my intelligence and my self-respect, not my bustline.

And I'm finally comfortable with that.

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