my relationship with my breasts

I was born flat-chested. Go figure. The first thing I remember about my relationship to my breasts is standing topless in my bedroom in grade 5, looking at myself in the mirror. My breasts were starting to change from chest to slightly puffy breast tissue. The change was minute and I remember wishing and hoping that they would be big. I remeber specifically thinking that it is a Very Good Thing For A Woman To Have Big Breasts.

I don’t recall paying attention to their growth at all. Sometime in grade six, it was announced that I needed a bra for goodness sake! I don’t remember much about this process. It was probably a box bra from a department store. I remember that it was a thin coton and that’s about it. I had only one.

By the time I got to grade 6, they were ‘fully grown’, or rather, the way they would look and feel until I became pregnant with Bobby. I was oblivious to them, in a way, until at a sleepover, a girl in my class mentioned that I was the one with the boobs, and I felt at once proud and shy about this. Over the next few years, I came to know that this was A Thing about me. I had big boobs (OMG SQWEE JUST HOW I WANTED!!!) except that it was not really all that great. I’d get cat-called by grown men on my way to play at the park with all the other 12 year olds, boys my age seemed to be scared of me.

I knew I could get attention by putting them on display. It felt as though they were the only thing about me that boys/men cared about. Slowly, I began to choose fashions that downplayed them as much as possible. No cleavage, for instance. I was just tired of my boobs being so OBVIOUS. And besides, there was an entire world of fashion that was completely unsuited to them. I began to seriously consider breast reduction surgery.

As far as sexy time went, I loved breast and nipple play.

My pregnancy was not my first, but it was the first that made it past 3 months. After that point my breasts and nipples changed fairly dramatically. After Bobby’s birth, my relationship with my breasts was much different. Incorporating them into my sex life was not among my interests. They had enough stimulation with the feeding of a baby ThankYouVeryMuch that the LAST thing I wanted was anyone else touching them in any way at all. In the early days they were engorged and pained and leaky. The leakyness lasted for months. My nipples were so sensitive and Brent never adapted to the new way they needed to be treated so they were totally off the table until lactation had come to an end. And even then, I’d only be interested in that if I was REALLY revved up.

Once lactation had ended, my breasts seemd so small to me. They still fit in my old bras though. They were just softer, and a bit lower. I wore push-up bras exclusively to get them to look how they did before pregnancy. Then I got pregnant with Molly and the above paragraph applied to me all over again.

It’s been months since Molly stopped nursing completely and I’m still lactating a little bit. There is no leaking or anything like that. Nipple stimulation is something I’m super into under the right conditions and those conditions are very often met.

My breasts are nothing like the way they were before pregnancy, they are even softer than they were after having Bobby. At first, I was back to the push-ups but now I’m really into thin fabric bras, or none at all. I love the shape of my breasts and I’m not ashamed to show them, or the shape of them through my clothes anyway. I don’t feel like the slight colour variation or bump that gives away my nipple is offensive.

I finally feel like I have a GOOD relationship with my breasts. They are mine to love and share as I see fit. I wear bras, or not, as I care to. I wear clothes that highlight them, or not, as I care to. My ideas of what is ‘appropriate’ with regards to having boobs in public have changed vastly and have settled on ‘I’m comfortable with this so if you aren’t that’s your problem.’

 

On this day:

in 2007 – I thought about kidnapping someone
in 2006 – many things

Advertisements


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s