For as long as I can remember I was jealous of my sister’s boobs. I was a late bloomer and she wasn’t. She looked great in a bikini and I had the chest of a teenage boy until college. I had tried every cleavage enhancing bra possible. Nothing worked. In my early 20s, I contemplated a boob job, then decided against it. Actually, I’m just scared of needles and knives, so wasn’t really keen on elective surgery. By my mid/late 20s I had become happy with my chest. I had decided I enjoyed not having to wear a bra all of the time. I had come to terms with my small perky chest and I had come to love it.
Before I got pregnant my sister and I had discussed on numerous occasions the evolution of our boobs. Her voluptuous chest had depleted with each kid (and she has four girls). She would always say to me, my boobs would do the same once I had kids. Funny, I never really believed her because my chest had never been big, so how is it possible that all of a sudden my boobs would be saggy.
Well… I’ve had a kid and in the past year during my pregnancy, my boobs were alien to me. First, during my first trimester my boobs were so sore, I could barely touch them. I had gone from never wearing a bra, to wanting to shower with one. By my second trimester I looked like a porn star. I was constantly trying to hide my new found cleavage. When Maggie was born my breasts went from pornstar to ridiculous. One of my biggest obsessions was to find the most comfortable way to live with these new tatas. Let’s just say between pregnancy soreness and breastfeeding, I longed for my small chest. I assumed once I stopped breastfeeding I was positive my body , especially my boobs would return to normal. Well, long story short my boobs are getting smaller, but they are no longer perky. In fact there are days that my boobs resemble ape tits. That’s right I said it…Ape tits. RIP perky boobs. We had many years together. I’m sorry our relationship started off rocky, but in the end I loved you and I miss you.
Maybe someday you will return, I’m hoping with exercise I’ll gain some shape back. If not, I’ll have to reconsider the Boob Job. But first, I’ll have to reconsider my needle phobia.