We all know what happens to breasts after pregnancy and breastfeeding. Still it’s not easy to watch boobs become saggy and deflated. Louisa Simmonds makes peace with her ‘girls’ and says we should learn to fall back in love with ours too.
I bid a sad farewell to firm breasts today. Officially.
I’ve been kidding myself for a while now, pretending that they still looked young and full with the help of a push up bra or a chicken fillet or six.
But they weren’t looking so pert after my jog today, when they drooped out of my sports bra in the shower. They looked knackered, worn out and ready for retirement as they hung there, limply, inert and balanced rather too cozily on top of my muffin top.
They’ve served me well, my firm breasts, but it’s time to leave them in peace now.
But before I say goodbye, I want to reflect on some of the good times we had together.
You see, (and I am ashamed to admit it now), like Katy Perry, I too prayed for mammoth knockers large breasts as I entered my teens.
But my breasts were late developers and took their time, unlike those of most of my friends. And once they came, unlike Katy Perry’s, they stopped growing disappointingly quickly to become more the size of mandarins than melons – although my father was quick to reassure me that ‘more than a handful is a waste’. Awkwardly.
I never did meet a teenage boy who agreed with him.
However, when I reached my late teens and early twenties I grew to love those little critters. Having small, pert boobs was so much easier than having massive bazookas. My well-endowed friends couldn’t go bra-less or topless or wear low tops without looking skanky. And when they unleashed their beasts they plummeted downwards with gravity.
Unlike mine, that defied gravity and stuck out proudly like small ice-cream cones taped to the front of my chest.
They worked hard for me, those breasts. In spite of their petite size, they suckled my children with ease, so copiously in fact, that I was known as ‘the squirter’ in my birthing group. The very thought of a newborn or the sound of an infant cry would send them into a frenzy making them gush everywhere. If pushed, I probably could have fed the five thousand too.