Deep down in my heart, I always thought I had nice boobs…amazing boobs even. Boobs that looked great in low cut tops and tight sweaters and bikinis. My husband thought so too. He used to tell me all the time.
Now I have two things that dispense milk on demand for my baby. And while that is amazing and wonderful and more than “nice” in it’s own way, I really miss my boobs.
My boobs are no longer used for adult recreational activities. Not only is hubby seemingly terrified of accidentally getting a mouthful of milk, but I find that it’s uncomfortable to have them touched. At the same time they are sensitive and numb. What’s up with that?
I also no longer dress my boobs up in order to show them to their best advantage. These days if it opens up, pulls down or across or can be yanked up and out of the way it’s a preferred outfit. Fit and look have fallen by the wayside…as well as any delicious luxurious fabric that can’t be rescued from milk stains. Goodbye shiny, silky and soft. Hello boring pilling cotton.
This week at the gym I had pretty much reached inside my shirt to adjust things when I paused and realized maybe I shouldn’t do that in front of 20 strangers. I guess I no longer think about exposing, touching or adjusting my breasts in public…because they’ve become nothing more than lactation tools.
I hope my husband and I get my boobs back some day.
In the meantime, to cheer myself up , I just think about how grateful I am that it’s boobs that lactate as opposed to some other, more inconvenient body part. Or how I don’t have to lie on my side and let 8 kittens go to it.