I come from a long line of proud cleavage-barers.
My mom and my grandmother, both of whom grew up in Italy and shared a love of all things Sophia Loren, were delighted by their "ample bosoms," which seems like the best -- and maybe the only -- way to describe your grandma's breasts. They wore and still wear fitted sweaters and low-cut dresses that look like they were ripped out of Sofia Vergara's closet.
As a child, I thought nothing of the way my mom dressed. She didn't wear mini skirts and didn't resemble Peg Bundy. She just had big boobs and I guess I figured they weren't going anywhere, no matter what she wore. It wasn't until a guy friend commented to me many moons later that the bodysuit (yep, bodysuit) she wore to my Sweet Sixteen was kinda ... hot. That's when I realized there was probably a good reason why I favored turtlenecks and long scarves for so many years.