I am disgruntled. It’s no secret that the breasts change after a baby. I knew to expect change… but still. My breasts do not look like, as one friend so eloquently put it, “tube socks with tennis balls at the bottom”, but nevertheless they just don’t hoot like they used to. Worse still… there are those days… days when the boobs are flailing about even more than usual. Moments when, instead of going to retrieve the morning paper in my PJs nonchalantly (albeit quickly) as I usually do, instead I find myself carefully screening to avoid passerbys, putting on a sweatshirt, and then scurrying frantically, clutching at my bosoms, to retrieve the paper because… BECAUSE THE BOOBS ARE JUST EVERYWHERE! The hooters are a-flailing. The boobs have become waving appendages in their own right. Why is this? Why does this happen? Why should one ta-ta moment in time be different than another? Seriously? I am trying to comprehend here.
Shit, the things they don’t tell you in Lamaze… someone could write a book.
– the weirdgirl