Weight is not the only thing that is bothering me. Let me fess up. I am also self-conscious because of my breasts. In clothing, I look wonderful, thanks to expensive bras from Nordstrom (American upscale retail chain where they measure you and find an appropriate bra model). But not naked. Large saggy breasts, American size E-F. I guess you can call them womanly - they have nursed three children to the children's delight - but in the culture that values perkiness, I am upset. And they are too saggy for my age - at Nordstrom the shop assistant had trouble finding a bra for me because, in her words, I am "too shallow on top". My mother had a radical mastectomy being only a few years older than I am now, so part of me is deeply happy I have a full pair of breasts, but part of me is sad. I am particularly sad because I did it to myself - I had exceptionally good breast shape and I ruined it by going through massive weight fluctuations, losing and gaining tens of pounds. Women with stable weight retain their shape better.

I was crying about it and I confessed to my teacher, who knows D. She said that it is not important at all. She said that something has happened, something has clouded D.'s mind if he pays attention to his belly and my mind if I mourn the loss of my breast shape. She said she does not even remember what her breast shape used to be. The thing is, I also do not remember except that it was very good and commanded male attention big time.

It would be nice to find a man for whom these things are truly unimportant. Do they exist?

There, I've said it .