you don't know what you got until it's gone

Warning!!!

This is a post about breasts. You know, boobs. My boobs in particular. So if you are of the male persuasion or simply don't want to read about breasts then this post is NOT for you.

Consider yourself warned and don't come crying to me if you read it anyway and are scarred for life.

Back in the day, you know, before kids, I had what I thought were decent breasts. Now that I've had kids, I've come to realize they were the best breasts ever.

My wedding day...notice the perfect cleavage peeking out the top?

Yet, I didn't appreciate them at the time. I can still remember standing in front of the mirror pointing out my breasts imperfections to my sorority sisters.

(*Note: Even though I didn't fully appreciate them, I did realize their power and went to extremes to take care of them. A friend of my mom's had told me to always wear a bra even at night to prevent sagging. I took that to heart. Seriously, I think the only night of my life I went braless was my wedding night, per my husband's request! And just in case you're wondering, that little tip turned out to be BS. Yep, all those nights of wearing a bra did nothing for me.)

"They're too big!" I would whine, "I can't wear that type of bra with these boobs. I guess I'll just have to go braless. *sigh*"

If I only had that problem now! Now I'm saying, "I can't go braless...they'll poke out the hem of my shirt!"

My friend Lindsey at one point asked her now-husband Webb (aka Alex's boyfriend) if they were fake! Talk about a compliment! That's the best one I've ever received. Natural breasts so firm and perky that you can't tell if they're real or fake! That's boob perfection, my friends.

Then I had kids. Plural. Had I stopped after Jack they probably would have survived. They wouldn't have been the same but they were ok, like average, yk.
But Melody, my champion nurser, sucked. me. dry. She would probably still be nursing if I let her! They were pretty much a mere saggy memory of what had been after Melody got through with them. Charlie finished them off. Even the slightest hint of what they used to be is gone now.

Now instead of trying to find shirts that cover them appropriately, I am looking for clothing that will give the illusion of cleavage. I've become pretty good at faking it, thankyouverymuch.

As I've dealt with the emotional turmoil of the loss of what I once viewed as my greatest (physical) quality, my husband has been so supportive. When I asked him to be honest and tell me how they really look he told me he still loved them and they weren't that bad. His exact words were, "It's not like you look like some tribal woman in Africa."

Thanks, honey.

He also told me that he'd be happy to pay for a lift and/or implants.

That's sweet.

Thank goodness the three absolutely adorable children I have were more than worth the price I paid. Don't you agree?