Time for a Belle overshare.
I’ve talked relentlessly about my glorified nipples/negative boobs/embarrassingly small rack. As a younger woman I loathed my lack of boobs. I even went so far as to try a higher dose birth control in hopes that the boob fairy would pay me a visit (instead I just got acne galore and mood swings that made me SO ANGRY I once threw a handful of dirty underwear at my unsuspecting boyfriend.)*
After years of boob hate, I discovered exercise. Yoga, weight training, hiking and jogging were all infinitely easier with negative boobs. Sure I might look like a teenage boy when doing them, but who cares! I learned to love my negative boobs. Victoria’s Secret made it possible for me to still find dresses and suits that fit, and my negative boobs allowed me to be as active as I pleased with only the support of a super cheap sports bra. WIN!
Pregnancy really has not gifted me with huge boobies, either. Some of my friend’s boobs swell up to po.rn star size while others just expand a cup or two. Mine, well, the girls are still in 34A bras (although the Professor insists with glee that my boobies runneth over). At first I was bummed about this, but now I’m ok. Especially when doing push ups.
While the boobs have really only grown a minimal amount, they are now at the largest (seems hilarious to call them large) they have ever been. When hoisted up by my Victoria’s Secret Very Sexy bra they actually form some mini cleavage which is visible in many of my shirts. I’m enjoying this new shift in boobs!
It seems my new mini cleavage comes with a cost, though. I wish I felt comfortable taking a photo of this to illustrate, but I’m just not ready to share that angle with the world so I’ll try to explain. Today, for example, I’m wearing a tunic with a low cut Henley style neckline. It’s cute and my boobies make it cuter! The problem is that now crumbs fall down there. I have never had this problem. Never. Ever. It seems no matter how carefully I eat, I always end up with a little bit of left overs in my bra or stuck to my shirt. The deep plunge of the bras I have only makes it worse, creating a sort of race track for debris.
The other night I took my bra off and was all, “OMG, what kind of horrid mole is growing on my boob????” Closer inspection revealed it was a stuck Chia seed. I was mortified. This morning I was noshing on a homemade granola bar and when I was done looked down and there is an oat in my bra. Again, mortified.
I don’t know if I’m doing something fundamentally wrong here or what. I’ve never had boobs and really don’t know how to handle them. Do I need a new type of bra? Perhaps a bib? Or maybe a constant liquid diet that will not produce crumbs?
In other news: tonight we meet with our doula to make “our plan.” I’m not exactly sure what this plan will entail but I’m excited to get started. Hopefully her client who has had on and off early labor will keep the baby in until after 8 p.m. so we can have our meeting! I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow!
* Although we no longer speak, I sort of hope he stumbles upon this blog one day as I KNOW he will be absolutely certain what I’m talking about. He laughed so hard at me that day asking if I really had thrown dirty undies at him? Then he hugged me and said it was time to change birth controls because I was, um, out of control!