Friday, July 30, 2010

The ups and downs of having superb cleavage

Since about junior year of high school, I've had the pain in the ass pleasure of lugging around a rather substantial chest. I've always been more of a tomboy, and getting attention for my figure always freaked me out. In college, they got bigger -- I hit a D cup my freshman year. I struggled with getting fellow students (and professors) to make eye contact in my male-dominated field. I actually had to carefully select bulky sweatshirts on days when I would be teaching one lab because of the oogling that I'd receive from a few choice students. Now, a DD (only because I would rather dislocate my shoulders each morning and sport back fat and quadroboob rather than go to a larger cup...)

For you A-cuppers out there who are thinking "ok, bitch, what a problem to have..." these are the reasons I cringe when people Pam Anderson it up:

  • I've never been able to run. I want to run, but I simply cannot find the proper support. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I run like an elephant and stress each joint in my body with every excruciating step.) I had a roommate who used to insist on wearing a regular bra under a sports bra. This is unacceptable behavior because boob sweat is a level of disgusting that is simply not worth it.
  • I throw my back out if I'm leaning forward and twist. I know that people who are not boob-laden also throw out their backs, but I completely blame being off balance.
  • Since I was 24 years old, I've had THREE hooks on my bra. This makes early morning, pre-coffee dressing a pain in the ass. About 1 in 5 days, I manage to screw up hooking the torpedo bra style hook pad and end up with a lopsided kink. I can't fix it because I've already used up my shoulder power for the day. It sucks.
  • I can't wear t-shirts that fit without looking like I have the style sense of Erin Brockovich. Medium t-shirts pull tight across my chest and Larges hang lifelessly everywhere else.
  • I've never been able to successfully wear spaghetti straps. Strapless bras end up around my midriff and act as nipple holders. No support. Nada. Skip the idea of the cute colored bra strap exposed beside the spaghetti strap since mine are the wide granny straps. Sexxxxy! I did go strapless for my wedding. I had $150 worth of support that included metal bars running down my sides which bruised me and made me cut my reception short so I could get the hell out of my dress.The last 10 months, I've made sure that these knockers paid their dues. They have provided a life source for my babygirl. Not only did they get up and work at all hours of the day and night, provide comfort during colic, and grow two fantastically rolled thighs...they also stocked up 1.4 gallons of frozen breastmilk by the time babygirl was 2 months old because I had to be gone on a business trip! Yeeehaw!!
Now, they are retired. The weaning process is complete. Babygirl in her stubbornness had to go cold turkey onto formula in order to accept it. I tried to do a slow transition, but she'd just rather go without than choke down formula. I had hoped to do mornings only with her for a while, but it is what it is. The twins will never be the same. Perky and cute - gone. Lush and rock hard during pregnancy (and weaning) - gone. Deflated and lifeless - here we come!

I do look forward to going and getting an actual fitting once they droop and settle after the weaning this week. I've never had a REAL bra - one that someone measured me and gives proper support without holding cleavage to my chin (a hot idea, I know).

I'm embracing my new body. No embarrassment here. These girls did their job. I have a happy, healthy baby who breastfed without a drop of formula for over 9 1/2 months! Not too shabby for working full-time, too! (Granted, I worked full-time with her at home with me for 9 months so feeding time was much easier than if I'd been in an office.)

Although I did enjoy nursing, and I was fortunate that nursing came relatively easy for us, I am not going to miss it too terribly. I am finding as my milk dries up that I am grieving the loss of the magic of producing milk. It is an amazing thing. My body never seems to know how to do things quite right in the realm of womanly things - periods are always out of whack, we struggled to get pregnant, my ovaries are stupid and choke on eggs sending me to the hospital with cysts...but this my body knew how to do -- and well.

I can look back now, with teary eyes at the montage of breast feeding memories....(cue sappy music...)

Trying to figure out where the milk came out...what the hell is that yellow stuff...cracked nipples...carrying milk in my armpits...boobs so full babygirl can't feed...waking up in puddles...still not being able to sleep on my stomach after childbirth...leaking...boob diapers...nipple packs...

Screw it. My grief is gone - here's your formula - have a great day! :)

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