At the risk of losing those of my readership who don’t like to talk about boobs, I’m going to talk about boobs.
One of my sisters was over tonight, and from her double d seat on the couch she leant over to me and said, “What’s with your chest?”
I looked down, baffled. And to be honest, there was not much to see.
“Go on,” she coaxed. “Just flash them at me, just flash them at me quickly.”
So I did. Only to have my double d sister explode into fits of laughter.
“What happened to them?” She cried. “Where are they?”
We both laughed.
And later I contemplate. Where, oh where have my boobs gone? I never had huge ones to begin with, but while I was pregnant and breastfeeding they were comfortably sizeable. Since finishing breastfeeding four months ago it appears they have vanished, disappeared, had the life sucked out of them, vamoosed, gone without a trace.
Despite this seemingly glum situation, there are positives to this predicament. I can wander round without a bra and feel quite comfortable. I can go running at the drop of a hat without much concern. I can flippantly drag my old stretchy crop top out of my knicker drawer and wear it to work with a smug look on my face. See? There are benefits to the ever changing body of a breastfeeder.
I’m sure come next time the cycle will begin all over again. In the meantime, if anyone sees a sale on trainer bras, be sure to let me know eh?