Is it too soon for us to talk about our lady parts? I wasn’t sure. We’ve known each other for a few months, and let’s face it, we’re all moms so plenty of people have seen our lady parts by this point.
That reminds me of the time in middle school I was at a family party and my mom and my aunt were talking (in a room no one else was in-thank god). For some unknown and totally bizarre reason I felt compelled to start unbuttoning my mom’s blazer while she was distracted with her conversation. I got to the last button, whipped open her blazer and revealed…wait for it…that she was wearing a dickie! That’s right, I flashed my mom’s bra AND belly to my aunt. My mother screamed “Why did you do that?” To which I sheepishly said “I don’t know” and ran out of the room. Sorry mom.
Now that I have you laughing and happy I’m not YOUR daughter let’s just go there, shall we?
Breasts. Boobs. Tatas. Bazoombas. Headlights. Knockers. Fun bags. Cans. Jugs.
Raise your hand if you love your boobs.
That’s what I thought. No one, ok, maybe one or two of you, actually likes your boobs. Why is that exactly? My husband certainly loves them. My kids do too, even though I never really got the hang of using them as a food source. Kitten will sit in my lap and knead my chest like dough.
Some of us wish we had more, others wish we had less. Our boobs change dramatically after babies too. Just one more gift of mothering no one dares mention. My breasts are now so large and saggy that I fear the time will come shortly when I’ll be tucking them into my pants. Who needs a bra when you have a belt? I also know people who were shocked to find that their tatas got smaller after breastfeeding. Please explain the fairness in that little scenario. I said little, sorry, no pun intended. And I have never been able to figure out the ladies who want and pay to have breasts enlarged to the size of cantaloupes. How does one jog without fear of black eyes?
It reminds me of a book the girls have been reading lately called Too Purpley. In it a little girl can’t find anything to wear. It’s all too stripey, too polka-dotty, too itchy.
Not these boobs!
Too big, too small, too lumpy, too none at all.
Too droopy, too saggy, too leaky, too baggy.
Too heavy, too light, too bumpy, no boobs are quite right.
We women, especially moms, seem to have a hatred for good ol’ Thelma And Louise. Is it enmeshed with our overall body image issues and overwhelming feelings of conformity to some norm or standard that only exists on the pages of a glossy air-brushed magazine? My guess is yes, it does. So how do we get past it? I’ve thought long and hard about this conundrum and I could only come up with one reasonable solution:
Get a good bra.
Maybe I’ll work up the courage to talk about that in another post.