Tessa stared at the salesman, wondering if she was being taken for a ride again. His shifty gaze, oily smile and seeking hands were sending all sorts of signals, none of them good.

“Madam, try am. This na ukuntunku,” he boasted, exuberantly shoving the materials at her again. At this rate, he was going to poke her eye out with a bra hook.

“Which one be ukuntunku?”

“You no know ukuntunku? Madam I say try am. The breast must bow.”

Tessa hesitated again, eyeing the brassieres indelicately clutched in his big paws.

The salesman separated one and wore it on his head. Surprisingly, it fitted the head which was rather large and oblong. The garment on his head made him look a bit like a demented evil surgeon, the kinds that featured prominently in those silent, black and white movies she watched on OGTV when she was a child.

He grinned at her, his teeth large like enamel shovels and shoved the brassieres in into her hands.

“Madam go test dem for the back of the shop. I want you to patronise me”, he insisted. He removed the one on his head and squeezed it in with the rest.

Tessa looked sceptically at the back and decided what the heck? She couldn’t afford the ones she saw on Instagram, and the last vendor she chatted with had emphatically told her that the lowest price for ‘packing bra’ her size was fourteen thousand, five hundred naira. Heck no. there was no way she would fork out that amount of money on lingerie.

As soon as the word ‘lingerie’ slid through her thoughts, she heard her cousin’s voice in her head, cackling maniacally like an old crone. Don’t deceive yourself, Tessa. Which lingerie are you buying in this bend down boutique? You are buying okrika brazzy. Yeye.

Tessa gritted her teeth and made her way to the back to join other women testing varied assortments of bras, tights and boob tubes. She turned her back to the women and struggled out of her of blouse. She didn’t take her bra off but decided to wear the samples over them.

“No no, aunty not like that!” exclaimed Nuratu, the salesman’s lively assistant. Despite her protests, Tessa suddenly found her breasts swinging free like massive pendulums on her chest. Nuratu’s slippery fingers had unhooked her bra faster than Akin’s fingers ever could. His lusty fumbling in the cool darkness of his vehicle had finally destroyed the only good bra she owned, and now, here she was in Aswani market on a hot Saturday afternoon struggling through the mass of unwashed bodies in search of that elusive cheap, packing bra. Stingy asshole, she thought sourly.

The first one she tried on seemed to cover only her _nipples. The second one was a little better, but not by much. By the time she had gone through five, Tessa had begun to despair. Nuratu squeezed, moulded, and strained until her muscles bulged and sweat formed a brilliant sheen on her ‘Rihanna forehead’, but Tessa’s colossal bosoms defeated every brassiere that was presented before it.

Finally, they were down to the last one: The Ukutunku.

“Aunty let us try this one, e be like sey e go size you”, panted the ever optimistic Nuratu.

“Nuratu I am tired, biko. Besides, your oga don wear am for head so how am I sure he never slack am?

As soon as the words passed her lips, she immediately felt ridiculous. “Oya let’s try it.”

To her dismay, The Ukutunku did not fit as well. Or so she thought. Nuratu thought otherwise. She gritted her teeth and took a fistful of Tessa’s sweating breasts, and stuffed it with determination into the hidden crevices that Tessa did not know existed in a bra. By the time Nuratu was done, most of her breasts were covered up.

Tessa could barely breathe.

“Aunty shebi I told you that it will size you” Nuratu declared proudly, wiping off a stream of sweat from her ‘bold’ forehead. “The secret is pushing the breast inside well and making sure space no dey anywhere. There is no how e no go pack you. And e no cost o. Na just 3,500.”

“I hear you. Abeg where my bra, I don taya.”

Monday morning came.

Tessa struggled with The Ukutunku for about five minutes before she was able to squeeze all the flesh in. She pretended not to notice that some spilled out over the top and hoped that the chiffon top she was matching with her black trousers would cover most of the awkwardness.

When she was ready to leave, she sneaked a peek at the standing mirror again, and this time was forced to admit that her breasts stood at different angles. One faced the heavens, while the second faced sideways.

Tessa sighed. When your bras are big enough to shelter a third world country, this is the kind of rubbish you buy in the struggle, she thought gloomily.

When she got to the office, she gingerly sat at her desk, afraid that any sudden movements would topple her over. Her breathing was becoming laboured and her arms, shoulders and back had begun to ache because of the constriction. Tessa cursed the evil surgeon looking salesman and his axe headed sales assistant for hoodwinking her into buying the Ukutunku. This was punishment.

Some minutes to noon, she got up to use the rest room and as she crossed the staff room back to her desk, The Ukutunku suddenly snapped with a very audible “kpo!!”

She was mortified and horrified. The rings connecting the straps to the cups had broken under the pressure of her massive bosoms and now her mammary organs rested indelicately on her stomach. Her mum always joked that Tessa’s breasts were long enough to form a lasso which she would use to snag her children each time they tried to run away from spanking. Don’t worry my dear, who will like you will like you, even if your breasts are touching your knees, her mum always declared.

All eyes turned to stare at her. The Ukutunku’s cry of defeat had been quite loud.

Struggling with tears of extreme embarrassment, she quickly covered her chest while her male colleagues turned away and started ‘forming activity’. When she got to her desk (the journey back felt like a weird slow motion dream where all the colours in the room became very bright, and it felt like someone had moved her desk farther away because she never remembered her corner being so distant), she quickly picked up her phone, opened her IG app and typed “hello.”

Two minutes later, a reply appeared.

“Good afternoon ma”.

“Is this still available?”

“Yes ma, but it is now sixteen thousand”.

“I don’t fucking care. Send me your account number!”

armadeo:
Well written.

Lol.

The agony of oversized boobs



Utukuntu. Make I no talk wetin dey my mind ....

uboma:
I can't stop laughing after reading your piece here. Especially the part where her bra was removed even before she could express her reservation.

And the part in the office where the new bra went bad.

Do women really go through these hassles to get fitting bras?

Ishilove:

You don't know the half of it. This is just an abridged version of the struggles to get a fitting bra

Magnoliaa:

I don't go through any struggles like that. Maybe it's because I have agbalumo breasts sha.

Magnoliaa:

I don't go through any struggles like that. Maybe it's because I have agbalumo breasts sha.

uboma:
I can't stop laughing after reading your piece here. Especially the part where her bra was removed even before she could express her reservation.

And the part in the office where the new bra went bad.

Do women really go through these hassles to get fitting bras?

Ishilove:

It is very easy for smaller busted women, unlike others with extra large cups. The bras are scarce, and even when you get good ones, they are very expensive.

pocohantas:

pocohantas:


Busty women? Yes they do.

Not just bras, but every top garment brings so much hassles for them. Shirts, blouses, gowns…name it. I’ll pick big nyash over big breast.

Magnoliaa:


Ehyaaaa. My heart goes out to you women. Score 1 for us. Because anytime women around me complain of getting fitting bras and such, e go be like say na foreign tongue dem dey appeal.


It's true na.

Magnoliaa:

I don't go through any struggles like that. Maybe it's because I have agbalumo breasts sha.

AryEmber:
Seriously, one doesn't know the blessings until you read stuffs like this. To think I wanted more! Olorun sheun o

Chinnems:
Thanks for the vivid descriptions.

The story feels alive.

Thanks for sharing.

Team Ukutunku all the way.

cayorday89:
Great write up on the realities of what busty women go through, felt pity for her though having got to know how she got to damage her reliable bra to the impatient hands of a man on heat... Well sacrifices made for nature's desire to multiply...

Ishilove:

You don't know the half of it. This is just an abridged version of the struggles to get a fitting bra

pocohantas:


Busty women? Yes they do.

Not just bras, but every top garment brings so much hassles for them. Shirts, blouses, gowns…name it. I’ll pick big nyash over big breast.

Ishilove:

chatinent:


Nice write-up. You need a bottle of my friend udeme.

Ishilove:

Tenks, but I don't take strong alcohol

chatinent:


You'll mix it with Hollandia. It's no that strong tho.

okpanachil:
Ishilove did you write this story, how come i have not been reading your write-ups? This is beautiful, language,expressions etc keep it coming.