Giving Credit where Credit is Due: An Ode to my Breasts

You’ve had quite the life, my ladies.

From nonexistence
To mysterious mounds
To perky traffic stoppers
To milk duds and baby buffets
To now deflated elf shoes
(with more changes to come, I’m sure)

You’ve been beaten up through these last few years.
You’ve been teased
Bit by vampire baby teeth

And do you remember that time,
After the second baby was born,
When the toddler ninja latched?
Jealousy runs strong in that one.
Of course you remember.
It broke skin.
We never saw it coming.

And yet, to your credit, you keep on kicking (or should I say, bouncin’)!

The birth of our two little babes means:
Gone are the days of your perkiness
Gone are the desires to squeeze you into push up bras
And gone are the attempts to create cleavage.
But most importantly,
Gone are the days of letting your state affect my confidence.

Because let’s be honest:
You came to do a job,
And you’ve done it.
You’re still doing it!
You’re feeding babies,
Sustaining life.
Attracting the hubby, despite your tiger stripes.
You adjust to meet the expectations I’ve placed on you like a champ.

You’re so much more than your appearance.
You’re so much more than flesh and flab,
More than cow udders,
More than shoulder boulders.

Who cares if you spontaneously leak?
Even though your nursing days are on hold.

Who cares if you seem to hide behind my belly,
Afraid to poke out further than my mommy pooch?

Who cares if there’s less real estate to juggle?
For the ever lovin’ husband.

And in the long run,
Who really cares how low you sag?
Can’t take those double D implants into the afterlife with you.

Ladies, you’ve been dependable.

Does this mean I’ll stop teasing you?

Does this mean I’m forever confident because of your itty-bitty titty size?
Not usually.

But you’ve been my girls, my breasts, since puberty.
I’m stuck—you’re stuck.
So I think it’s about time to give you the credit you deserve.

Thanks ladies.

I’ll see you again when it’s time for baby #3.

credit breasts