This week I got very excited when I go a last minute call to Dublin for a long awaited appointment for a breast reduction surgery.
Most mornings when I wake up, I’m not actually sure if I am lying on my back or my front. Most women could tell this based on the position of their breasts but with mine, I really cannot be sure. They could be anywhere, as they are so big and unruly, they move around a lot in the transit of sleep, being unbridled and free to roam.
Although, it’s probably good they are free to move, otherwise if I slept on my front, I could scare my family every morning, looking like I was levitating a few feet off the bed. It is no secret amongst my friends, that I absolutely hate my boobs and if a genie were to appear before me, a nice little storm in a C cup would be my very first wish. In my teens and twenties, they were a nice, reasonably manageable size, that were pert beacons of womanhood.
Whilst I was never able to go braless, I could certainly still shop in the pretty section in Marks and Spencer and not have to search for a home for them in Millets tent section. They were often stared at in conversations with men, who hadn’t yet received the news that women don’t actually like it when you do that.
As I got into my thirties, they became functional, delivering breakfast, lunch and dinner to each of my new-borns. I am firmly in the ‘Breast is Best’ camp when it comes to feeding small babies. I really wish more was done in Ireland to encourage women to do it. It’s often touted that formula is nearly as good as breast milk, but no actually it isn’t and I feel we should stop trying to pretend that it is, however I do respect every woman’s right to make that decision for herself.
I’m not dreamy and romantic about it in any way and when sharing my experience with expectant Mum’s, I tell the truth, whilst it is lovely to connect with your baby and it gives them all the antibodies etc they need, it is also exhausting and pretty boring to sit for 45 minutes, several times every day whilst your child messes with its dinner.
But I have never regretted doing it, even though the first time Mick’s older brother walked into the room when I was feeding, was an experience I could have lived without. As was, the time I stood chatting to my friend’s husband, not realising I had forgotten my breast pads and had 2 perfectly circular milky targets on my brown cotton blouse. Any one for darts?!
I quickly learned how to discreetly let them loose in public, like juggling a liquid filled basketball under a blanket, whilst also holding on to a 15lb piece of slippery ice, easy-peasy! I am very proud of myself, that I did it for six months, although all of my children were combination fed on boob and bottle from between 8-14 weeks, I’m not a saint!
Whilst breastfeeding is wonderful for helping you lose your baby weight; it is not so kind to the level of elasticity in your boobies. Feeding three babies for a combined total of 18 months, coupled with, my advancing years and ever-increasing scales reading, my boobs have somewhat gotten out of control.
Like a child with ADHD, it is impossible to keep them still when you want them to, and they could burst out of your top, swimsuit or even bra if they are not tutored in the right way. Unlike children with ADHD, you are at least allowed to strap your boobs down in an effort to keep them under control, and my, over the shoulder boulder holders, have become bigger and more matronly the more unruly my boobs have become.
I wish I could have them reduced much earlier on my health insurance but you need the holy trinity of, a letter from your osteopath, a minimum of G cup and a BMI of 25.
I got two of those easily, but If I had a BMI of 25, I’m sure I would end up needing a nose job too, after falling flat on my face, being pulled down by the force of grav-titty.
So hopefully by the end of this year I’ll be sporting shiny new boobies, or at least smaller ones. On the drive to Dublin I listening to a man launch a fundraising campaign to walk/run/cycle 100k in 30 days to raise funds for Breast cancer research and treatment. Following his wife’s Breast Cancer diagnosis and treatment he wanted to do something to make a difference, I always applaud people who get up and do something to support others in their darkest moment.
For all the moaning about the size of my boobs, I have been lucky enough so far in my life that they are healthy and I really do count my blessings. I have signed up to complete the fundraiser and I invite you to do same……
This blog piece I dedicate to a lady I don’t know that well, but that I like a lot who is fighting Breast Cancer head on, with strength, with humour and with humility. She doesn’t think she is, but she is an inspiration to us all.