Just mere months ago, I rejoiced as I closed up Barrett’s Boobfet and put breastfeeding behind me. I was thrilled at the prospect of reclaiming my rack. I was giddy over getting the milk outta my mounds. I was ecstatic about parting ways with my nursing pads. Though it is my current plan to nurse any subsequent children, nursing for me, was kind of like buying a washer and dryer when you buy your first house … it’s something I felt like I should do, because it makes life easier, holds the most benefit and is cheaper in the long run but is not something from which I derived much joy overall.
After the final feeding, I slowly dried up the drinkers and while there was mild discomfort involved in that process, I gladly bid farewell to being a 24 hour breastaurant. I was fired up for my returned freedom from feedings and was under the impression that having always had less in the chest would behoove me in my life after breastfeeding… I mean, how low can a bitty bust sag? The transformation from non-babymaking boobs to motherly mounds has been gradual but evident. I remember my elation when my pregnancy plump n perkies came in … I remember purchasing my first C and D cup bras and thinking … yay! I have made it. However, the transformation of my ta-tas post pghood has not been quite as pleasing. I’ve slowly seen my plump n perkies deflate into flat n floppsies and I have to say, I am just not sure how I feel about my sans milk set. {Now, while I know I am rather frank about most things, prior to having Barrett, it would have felt socially awkward to have an entire post about my breasts. Post being a milkin’ mama, it feels like a completely normal topic of discussion}.
Two weeks ago, I bit the bullet and stopped into Victoria’s Secret to purchase my first hooter holder since having Barrett. After seeing the volume vamoose from my postpartum pair, I realized I was in need of a few new bras. I had, of course, purchased nursing bras post pregnancy but I was ready for something that looked a little more feminine and little less like a doctor had prescribed it for medical use. In true Victoria’s Secret fashion, a sales girl greeted me at the entrance and immediately offered to measure me…right out in the middle of the store. As she measured {over my clothes}, I gave her the specifics — I was fairly certain I was a 34B because I’d been wearing a bra from my pre-preggo days and I wanted something I could wear under a t-shirt with no padding. While I cannot hide the fact that I owned a water bra for a bit of time in high school and donned push up pads in early college, my life post-marriage has rarely necessitated a push up bra. I don’t do plunging necklines and my girls don’t really do the whole cleavage thing… so, I digress … no padding necessary.
Before.
It seems that while, for me, the legs and midsection bore the brunt of the pregnancy pounds, my boobs did not fair as well. The sales girl finished her measurements and stated quite happily “32D”. Surely she misspoke I thought to myself, my boobs are tiny, there’s no way these are D’s. D’s are big and busty. If these are D’s than I must have a slow leak. She then told me that I should check out the push up bras … I just might like what I find. I grabbed some bras {the same style I’d worn before Barrett} and headed into a dressing room. As I tried on bra after bra, I understood her subtle hint … my boobs were droopy and in need of a pick-me-up. I pushed the button for assistance and as soon as the salesclerk appeared, I asked for her help … why did my boobs seem closer to my belly button and further from my chin. “You’ve lost the volume … it’s normal for moms.” Oh yeah… I’m a mom … a ma’am … a woman of a certain age. I looked in the mirror examining the bra that had once been my go-to style. My current funbags appeared to be somewhat deflated mini me versions of what once occupied the space and I was flabbergasted. Bring on the noise…bring on the funk… bring on the padding. I walked out of the store, 50 dollars poorer, push-up bra in hand, and mom card in my wallet.
While I am still, for many reasons, happy to have completed breastfeeding for the first time, I secretly look forward to pregnant plump n perkies that surely await me in the future. And, while I am not overly thrilled about my once again itsy bitsies, I suppose I’m lucky to have had a brief brush with a full bust.
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