I was recently posting some pictures of myself in my story on Instagram where it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t wearing a bra.

There was no way anyone could have missed that. Even though my precious boobies are pretty small.

But just to make sure, I made a comment saying, “I don’t like bras anyway #loveyourboobs.”

It is funny how much we want to show the world our boobs and how comfortable we are with them, once we really love them as they are. We don’t care what people think anymore.

But what a lot of people don’t know is that I’ve come a long way to find true self-love and acceptance. I wasn’t always that confident about my tiny breasts.

I stopped wearing bras around three years ago, and showing it off on social media was just another step in the direction of not giving a f*ck—or rather, to celebrate this new love even more.

I stopped wearing bras because I didn’t love my boobs the way they deserve to be loved—but I was eager to learn it.

So, I decided to do this kind of confrontation therapy with myself: no more bras.

I almost couldn’t believe how uncomfortable I was in the beginning. I still tried to hide that I wasn’t wearing a bra under my shirts by rounding my back more or by putting my arms in front of me. Discomfort overload.

I didn’t want anyone to see my small boobs or their natural form because I didn’t like them—so how could anyone else? Exactly. This was just another reminder for myself that I really had to do this. I had to learn to love my boobs because they are actually perfect—and they deserve it.

I was even sorry for disliking them so much until that point in my life and I didn’t even know exactly why I felt that way.

I thought, “Okay then. Let’s face it.” Because the only way to overcome our fears is to face them.

I’d already started facing them by leaving the bra at home, but I wasn’t doing it quite right. I still wanted to “hide.”

There is no way that anyone can grow in a comfort zone. I had to remind myself over and over again during my self-invented confrontation therapy not to slouch and instead, stand tall and be confident about my body—especially my breasts.

I really wasn’t confident at all in the beginning. But you know what they say: fake it until you make it. So I faked it. For a couple of months.

I always went without a bra and reminded myself to appear confident about it, even though I wasn’t yet. I told friends that I felt better when not wearing a bra. That I was sick of this discomfort and sick of shaping my breasts into an unnatural form. I also started brushing my teeth naked. That was part of the confrontation therapy as well.

I did all of that until I really felt more comfortable from the inside out with my small boobs. Until I felt confident from my core about not wearing a bra anymore and “showing” my boobs. From then on, I didn’t have to fake it anymore. I became it. I got so comfortable that I even started wearing white tops without a bra. Just to be a little provocative, you know.

Some guys threw flirty looks at me when I was walking through the city. And I liked it. I actually enjoyed it. I didn’t even know if they noticed me being bra-less. But I didn’t care. You know why? Because I reached the point where I liked it. I did that only for myself. I had started to love my boobs unconditionally and I needed the world to see that. Wow, really? When did this change happen? I was proud of myself.

As I said, I’ve come a long way: from really hating growing boobies and trying to talk them out of growing any bigger (I guess I wasn’t ready for my body, this well-known territory, to change all of a sudden), to still hating them after they’d grown because they remained this small.

I bet your body hears you well after all. It was a war against myself and it was going on since my teenage years. What was the reason? Good question. When I asked myself, I couldn’t really find an answer. I found more questions.

Was it because of the thought pattern that I began as a teen when I wasn’t ready for my body to change and I unconsciously started hating my growing breasts? I never even questioned my beliefs all these years after. I just kept going on disliking this important body part of mine, because in my opinion (was it even my own opinion though?), they were too small. I am glad that I finally questioned it and learned how to love myself, especially my boobs—the way they are.

Was it because I grew up seeing all these “perfect” women online and in magazines who had “real” or “normal” or “perfect-sized” breasts? Is that why I’ve felt this way?

Was it because everyone in my family except me has big boobs? I remember that I always thought that I am not right the way I am—that I am not enough. Today, I know that I am perfect the way I am. I wouldn’t want my boobs any other way. I love them the way they are. And I am actually unbelievably glad that I don’t have big boobs. It wouldn’t even fit my body.

I even found myself adoring women who have small breasts and even more so when they are confident and happy about it. Because I know now from experience that it makes such a difference how we feel about our bodies. If you love yourself, you show and teach the world to do the same.

I can’t really put my finger on one particular thing. Maybe it all came together at once. Today, I forgive myself that I didn’t know better in my younger years. I also forgive everyone who could have been a better role model, but wasn’t. They also didn’t know better.

I thank myself for being able to change myself for the better. For learning how to love myself.

And to everyone who is struggling with this: I believe that you can do the same. Fake it, until you make it.

In my opinion, small boobs still don’t get enough “credit” on social media. So let’s give them some more attention. They deserve it.

Start loving yourself the way you are.

Start accepting everyone else the way they are.

Start loving all shapes and sizes—but especially your own.

Stop body-shaming each other.

Stop judging other bodies.

And we will all live happily ever after.

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