Retrospectively, I wish I had known how fantastic my boobs looked BEFORE having children. (yeah. I just went there in the first sentence of a post.) I don’t know about the comparison to other people’s boobs, but the before and after pics would have been staggering. I’ll spare you that illustration. (My husband says I’m prone to a lot of exaggeration in this respect, but this post is from my view point so you’re getting the self portrait here.) Before they were normal and perky. While nursing they were about the size of torpedo you’d find if the military had a Costco. After nursing, was a sad view that reminded me of tennis balls in tube socks. As time passes they get better, but never quite the same and after each baby I wonder if nature and evolution tries to bring them lower to the kids’ height for easy access or something.
I have come to accept this about my body and the fact that other women have lamented about the same thing brings me much comfort. Still, there’s nothing like your own child to put things into perspective for you.
One day just after having my third, my dear friend came over to help raise my baby blues. She came down with her own baby belly and picked the baby and I up. Then we were going to get my second child from preschool and my oldest from Kindergarten. It was so nice to get out in the sunshine but I wanted to get back to the house because in my depression, I hadn’t even thought of putting a bra on.
Being the wonderful friend that she was, she insisted that bras were over-rated, that we go to the McDonald’s drive thru and then have a picnic in the backyard after picking up the kids. My girls LOVE McD’s and I thought how excited they would be to have a treat like that.
We went to pick up No. 1 first. I gave her a love and showed her who had come to visit. She was very excited and then had this glazed over look as I told her where we would be eating. McDonald’s AND a picnic! Nothing. She seemed catatonic. I waved my hand in front of her face.
She responded but didn’t break her gaze from my mid section. “Huh?”
“You okay?” I asked. “did you hear where we are going?”
She stared and lifted her finger towards my chest. “Aren’t those……”
I looked down. “What?”
“…Supposed to be..” Her finger lifted significantly toward my shoulders. “…Up there?”
There was chortling from the driver’s seat followed by outbursts of loud laughter, followed by apologies and more chortling.
It took me a minute to figure out how to respond, but I came up with the best one I could manage with out crying and using my hands to lift the poor things up. “Well, yes, but that’s what happens when you don’t mind your mom all the time. Learn from my mistakes, young one. Learn from them. Now let’s get in the car and buckle up.”
It was a bit disconcerting to see her look of fear and understanding and then the speed that she crawled into my friend’s vehicle and buckled up. I swear I caught her glimpse down at her shirt and sigh in relief.
I started wearing Bras more and on a side note, we did have a lovely picnic. The humor that I got the chicken breast, was not lost on myself or my friend.