My Lovely Lady Lumps

My Eyes Are Up HERE!!!

 I have had an unusual relationship with my breasts. We've run the gamut, them and I, in a way I think most of my friends haven't. (Dad, if you haven't already, you might want to stop reading now. None of this is top secret stuff, no surgeries, tattoos, or piercings but really, how much do you want to know about your daughter's boobs?)

When I was about 13, I started getting a little concerned. My best friend was all ready well endowed in 7th grade, and I had (of course) nothing. Not unusual for a 13 year old white girl. However, my Mother told me many times that I shouldn't expect to get breasts until (if ever) I got pregnant, as that's what happened to her. So, I was resigned to being flat chested... although that didn't stop me from experimenting with stuffing my bra, duct tape, and the miracles that a Wonder Bra could provide. I gave up on the stuffing quickly though when, after carefully placing two cotton balls in each cup of my training bra before a co-ed dance in 7th grade, a boy I was dancing with gave me an "accidental" boob graze and I was positive he could tell what I'd done. Yeah, right, because 13 year old boys have so much experience with that type of thing. For all I know, he still thinks back fondly to the first time he "copped a feel." Ha!

I turned 16, still nothing much. I had nick-named them (ironically it turns out) Itsy and Bitsy. My best friend was now a D+, and a couple others were gaining fast. We joked about getting a transfusion after graduation so that we'd wind up somewhere that would make us both happy. We were only half joking.

I moved to Seattle and TA-DA! The boob fairy came! Yea! She wasn't especially generous, but at least it was something. I went down and visited friends in LA at age 17 and at least got guys to talk to my chest instead of my eyes for a change, so that was nice. I wound up with a 34B and was pretty happy with things. Still passed the pencil test, found bras in regular stores that fit, had cleavage, and could get away with wearing something backless without a bra. I liked my breasts, they were the perfect size for my frame. Not to brag, but  in my late 20s I dated a guy who, how do I put this, had worked with many lovely women who were often semi/mostly nude for professional reasons, and he told me quite honestly and without provocation that I had the best rack he'd ever seen. I thought that was quite the compliment!

Then, the Boob Fairy came again. And again. And again. Between the ages of 31-35, I went up two cup sizes. I'd also put on about 20lbs, but it seemed most of that was on my chest! So now, button up shirts wouldn't stay buttoned up and were in danger of sending a button flying off into someone's eye, bras were a requirement, men (and even some women) were much more easily distracted around me, excavating was required when laying face down at the beach, an exercise class without a sports bra was a painful, distracting, and nearly revealing mistake, and I was now the girl among my friends who had big boobs! How the hell did that happen?!!? I really just couldn't see that for quite awhile, I was still so caught up with my image of Itsy and Bitsy and just being thankful of my 34B... but 34D?!!? That's crazy talk! There must be a mistake, like how a size 6 is the new size 2. It's vanity bra sizing, right? Alas, no.

The thing is, I never wanted to have big boobs. I saw how my friends with big chests were treated by others, and how they saw themselves as a result. We couldn't shop at the same stores, because tops for teens weren't made to stretch that far. Adult men treated them like adults because all they saw were adult sized boobs and their eyes never made it that far north to see that they were still kids. The beach was a hassle, between bathing suit fiascos, excavating to lie down, and more unwanted attention. Their boyfriends were often obsessed with them to an annoying degree. They had unhealthy self-images and unhealthy relationships with men as a result. I was just fine with my second letter of the alphabet, thankyouverymuch.

So, now I'm pregnant, and here we go again. The Boob Fairy has earned enough frequent flier miles coming to our house to get her a trip to Europe, first class. And the fun is just starting! They say you can go up as much as TWO additional cup sizes once your milk comes in. I think I might refuse to admit to being an E (if things go that far) and just refer to it as DDD. I know things will go back down again (hopefully!!), and I might even be back to a 34B again, but it won't be the same. I do plan on breastfeeding, 6+ months, and that just takes a toll on things. As a trade off though, I will hopefully have a happier, healthier baby and have shared an amazing bonding experience with her in the mean time. I suppose failing the pencil test will be worth that. (Sigh) If I can keep my chest point average above a 2.0/C, I'll be content.

Itsy and Bitsy my ass.

Don't Worry, It's A Keeper!

This is just what my dream was like. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now some of you may have been understandably concerned about my lack of gushing about the joys of being pregnant and instead all the bitching about being nauseous and throwing up all the time, and wondering if a trip to Planned Parenthood might still be an option if I wasn't able to eat a med-rare steak (the smell of cooked meat is my biggest technicolor-yawn trigger right now) sometime in the near future... well, don't worry. Not only am I feeling better, but I realized the other day that what I was likely feeling wasn't gas or indigestion, but the baby moving! That's pretty cool... if you saw the way it was leaping around in there on the ultrasound, it's actually amazing I don't feel it more! I'm even tempted to use the word "awe" here.

I've had very vivid and realistic dreams the last four nights that I could feel (and even see, as in fists and elbows pushing my stomach out) the baby moving. They are so realistic and tactile that I'm shocked awake (not realizing I was asleep) lying in the exact position I was dreaming I was in, and nearly rolled over and woke Brooke up to have him feel. Only when I realized that my hand (where I "felt" the baby move) was near my ribcage (baby still below belly button) did I realize I was dreaming. While it's kinda cool to have a preview of sorts, it's not cool to be awoken from a dead sleep confident that something is punching its way around your abdomen. That then becomes kinda creepy and hard to go back to sleep. I really hope the attached photo is Photoshopped. It looks painful.

Also along the lines of "it's a keeper" is the fact that all of our test results have come back clear. Not sure if we'll do an amniocentesis (test where they shove a giant needle through my stomach wall to suck up a bit of amniotic fluid to test for stuff like Downs and more) or not. Large part of me wants to know now, but there's also a small (1 in 1,600)  risk of miscarriage and false positives. Jury is still out on that.

I'm currently 13 weeks, 5 days, baby is about 3.5 inches long, and bouncing around like a Mexican jumping bean, although we are fairly sure it's not in fact Mexican. I've lost 11 pounds, but have put on about 3lbs of "baby stuff", so that probably means I lost 14lbs of fat... who knew pregnancy could be a diet plan. I definitely had it to lose too... having gone up two cup sizes in the last three years, I'm just fine with going back down a bit before production starts rolling and they go up again. I never thought all those years ago in high school as a "late bloomer" that someday I'd be wishing for smaller boobs... definitely falls in the category of "be careful what you wish for!"

So, the long and short of it is that now that I'm not feeling like crap all the time any more (even made it out for sushi tonight!*), and have felt the baby move, it's becoming more real and thus more fun and easy to get excited about. I've found I tolerate pain a lot better than nausea. I think that might come in handy later.


*Yes, yes, I know, sushi is on the "no, no!" list. I don't care, it sounded good (not much of anything else does these days), I need the protein, and 61 million Japanese women who ate sushi while pregnant can't all be wrong. They still kick our ass at math. I understand that you're just not supposed to eat bad sushi as it sucks extra bad to have food poisoning while pregnant. Oh, and keep the tuna to a minimum too because of the mercury. Having my first full meal in weeks (and keeping it down) was worth it.