Okay! So, if you find the subject matter of boobs offensive or crude in anyway, then this post is not for you. I'm talking about boobs today.
There are three categories of readers and depending on where you fall, you may or may not relate to this post. There are obvious exceptions, but generally speaking you're one of the following -
1) You have boobs, and baby(s) and your boobs aren't quiet what they used to be
2) You have boobs, and no baby, and your boobs are as they always have been
3) You don't have boobs (male readers, tread softly)
Of course there is category 4) You have boobs, and baby(s) and for whatever reason, surgery or freak of nature, your boobs are unscathed; if you are in this category, you can leave now. Just go away. I don't want to see you and your cute boobs.
(Seriously though, any cuteboobs-postpregnancy readers need to leave now, i actually hate you.)
The other day, while hanging out with my oldest of friends, I reached over the grab something and once again, my F$%^&* boob fell out of my bra. This never ceases to amaze/piss me off. My once perky and awesome boobs are now a little on the pancake side and they have this insane habit of falling out of my bra when I bend over.
What!? If you had told me one day my perfect boobs would rebel in such a way I would have scoffed.
I began on one of my crazy rants, ending in what was basically a post partum 'show and tell', and left my dear friend rolling on the floor laughing. Old friends are special because they can squeal things like "OH MY GOD! You used to loveeee your boobs! That is NOT what they used to look like!!!" while laughing through tears and it only makes you want to punch them a little bit.
"When I bend over, sometimes my boobs just fall out of my bra" I stated blankly
I then bent over dramatically to prove my point.
"All women must experience this right? and just, no one talks about it..." this is when I decided to write another boob blog.
So of course, if I wear the 'right' bra, everything is fine. The girls still look super cute when they're packaged correctly, but as a working mother just how often I can dig up the 'right' bra, and not just throw on the bra sitting on top of the laundry pile, well that's a daily battle I often lose.
Let me take you back a few years...
From the moment I realized boobs were a cool thing to have, probably around 14, I decidedly loved mine. They were pretty damn perfect, at least I thought so, and so began the Library of Alexandria size archive of boob selfies, which I took purely on the Samantha a'la Sex In The City thought wave of "I'm going to be old one day, but today I look great so I'm taking a picture so one day I can look back and say 'DAMN! I was hot!'"
Honestly, I'm glad I have those pictures. Not so I can look back on the good ol' days and mope. Not to remember that I was hot. And not to make myself feel better in anyway.
I'm simply glad I have them because DAMN! I wassss hot! And that's not who I was, it's who I am.
Maybe 'the girls' aren't quite themselves these days. That's okay. 'The girls' have grown up, they've nourished a baby person for 6 months! They've gone through some real.tough.shit. And basically, they're women now. Just like me. Me and my boobs have grown up!
As far as deflated pancakes go, I still think they're pretty cute.
When I think about the fact that I sustained a tiny human for 6 months with only my boobs, well, that's really, really, impressive. Added to my boob archive is now 6 months worth of shots taken with Charlotte nursing, cuddled against me, usually a little milk-drunk.
Sometimes I try and tell myself it's all in my head, and that it's really not that bad.
But then I bend over in the wrong bra.
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4-L6rEm0rnY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
There are three categories of readers and depending on where you fall, you may or may not relate to this post. There are obvious exceptions, but generally speaking you're one of the following -
1) You have boobs, and baby(s) and your boobs aren't quiet what they used to be
2) You have boobs, and no baby, and your boobs are as they always have been
3) You don't have boobs (male readers, tread softly)
Of course there is category 4) You have boobs, and baby(s) and for whatever reason, surgery or freak of nature, your boobs are unscathed; if you are in this category, you can leave now. Just go away. I don't want to see you and your cute boobs.
(Seriously though, any cuteboobs-postpregnancy readers need to leave now, i actually hate you.)
The other day, while hanging out with my oldest of friends, I reached over the grab something and once again, my F$%^&* boob fell out of my bra. This never ceases to amaze/piss me off. My once perky and awesome boobs are now a little on the pancake side and they have this insane habit of falling out of my bra when I bend over.
What!? If you had told me one day my perfect boobs would rebel in such a way I would have scoffed.
I began on one of my crazy rants, ending in what was basically a post partum 'show and tell', and left my dear friend rolling on the floor laughing. Old friends are special because they can squeal things like "OH MY GOD! You used to loveeee your boobs! That is NOT what they used to look like!!!" while laughing through tears and it only makes you want to punch them a little bit.
"When I bend over, sometimes my boobs just fall out of my bra" I stated blankly
I then bent over dramatically to prove my point.
"All women must experience this right? and just, no one talks about it..." this is when I decided to write another boob blog.
So of course, if I wear the 'right' bra, everything is fine. The girls still look super cute when they're packaged correctly, but as a working mother just how often I can dig up the 'right' bra, and not just throw on the bra sitting on top of the laundry pile, well that's a daily battle I often lose.Let me take you back a few years...
From the moment I realized boobs were a cool thing to have, probably around 14, I decidedly loved mine. They were pretty damn perfect, at least I thought so, and so began the Library of Alexandria size archive of boob selfies, which I took purely on the Samantha a'la Sex In The City thought wave of "I'm going to be old one day, but today I look great so I'm taking a picture so one day I can look back and say 'DAMN! I was hot!'"
Honestly, I'm glad I have those pictures. Not so I can look back on the good ol' days and mope. Not to remember that I was hot. And not to make myself feel better in anyway.
I'm simply glad I have them because DAMN! I wassss hot! And that's not who I was, it's who I am.
Maybe 'the girls' aren't quite themselves these days. That's okay. 'The girls' have grown up, they've nourished a baby person for 6 months! They've gone through some real.tough.shit. And basically, they're women now. Just like me. Me and my boobs have grown up!
As far as deflated pancakes go, I still think they're pretty cute.
When I think about the fact that I sustained a tiny human for 6 months with only my boobs, well, that's really, really, impressive. Added to my boob archive is now 6 months worth of shots taken with Charlotte nursing, cuddled against me, usually a little milk-drunk.
Sometimes I try and tell myself it's all in my head, and that it's really not that bad.
But then I bend over in the wrong bra.
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4-L6rEm0rnY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
OUT.
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