What happened to my lovely lady lumps? Where'd they go Fergalicious? A sistah wants to know? Still got all that junk inside my trunk...rarely is it get- get -getting anyone drunk...but um..what was I saying?
I want a boob job.
Here's the thing...or thang as the Black eyed peas might wax....
I used to have really cute boobs. I was cool with them. They were never too big or in the way and they weren't tiny. They were just a nice perky B/C cup depending on my weight fluctuation that day/month/year.
Like I said, we. were. cool. It was probably one of the only body parts through my puberty, high school, college years I was okay with.
When I got pregnant with Quinn, I consciously walked myself through it "okay, I can do this...they'll be fine. I'll have some big boobs for awhile and then they'll go back to normal." In fact, I remember at my very first appointment asking my OB/GYN, "soooo what do you think will happen to my boobs". Ya know, a common question a 65 year old Mormon OB in the heart of Salt Lake City gets asked on a daily basis...I'm sure. (Screw the hum drum "can i hear my baby's heart beat..is everything okay bullshit." WHAT ABOUT MY TATAS??)
Anyway, he was like, "uhh what do you mean?".
ME: "you know, after I have the baby, what will happen...will they stay big, will they go back...what am I REALLY in for here?"
DR.: "well, you're planning on breast feeding so they will stay big for awhile but at your size, we usually see them just return to the same size they were previously".
SWEET. I was cool with that.
But that's not what happened.
ANYONE that has ever nursed a child knows what happened...and you've already "oh gurl"d this story a couple of times.
During the pregnancy, my boobs got big. The kid came out, my boobs got bigger. And then the nursing began.
My boobs became something I had never seen before. King Kong Boobs. They were large and IN CHARGE...of some serious milk supply....
I felt like I was carrying around two other appendages. I would try to boost them up in 2 sports bras and my chin would be resting on them. I had never see so much cleavage in my life. My husband was like "OH YEAHHH!" Until he was squirted in the face...then not so much. They became foreign objects I was attempting to handle every 2-3 hours.
Don't get me wrong, I really loved nursing my kids. And would I do it again in a heartbeat...yes...if I knew a boob job was waiting for me at the end of the milk train.
ANYWAY, after I stopped nursing Quinn and my nipples began to resemble something other than over sized pencil erasers; I could see a slight difference in them. Less perkiness, less firmness, less of the old me.
But I got pregnant again and I nursed again.
After I finished nursing Sloane I remember looking in the mirror, waiting and waiting for that bounce back with the slight change. Yeah...still waiting. In fact, what the hell happened? These sad sacks of mammary glands don't resemble anything other than deflated balloons. Sad, old, balloons, that have given up on life. I think they're depressed. Balloons that, each day scoop themselves into a bra too big for them but they're too lazy to go out and buy a new one. Balloons that in the tanning bed must stretch up so VERY VERY High or else they will have a white line under them. Balloons that have lost most of their helium...and will to live.
So, yes I want a boob job. But I'm not looking for the 20 something porn, buoyant boobies that stick straight out when you take off your bra. I'm just looking to get back a little closer to what they used to look like. That's all. Nuthin more.
And if I can find someone to finance this dream, that would be a perk!