Not many women out there are in love with all of their lady parts, bumps, curves and the sort. However, before one can loath and complain about her curvaceous "lady bumps"...one must have some to begin with. Don't get me wrong; I used to have some rather enviable lady bumps pre motherhood. But since embarking on this never ending journey and labor of love, my "lady bumps" leave something to be desired. As a side not...some of my bumps aren't horrendous. My derriere isn't perfect...but it isn't stop-traffic scary by any means (I'm an avid believer in squats and lunges. If I don't squeeze it, who else will?!) My "lady bumps" north of derriere-ville, however, could use some much needed medical intervention. There isn't a workout that exists on google that is going to perk up Lady TaTas to resemble their glory of yesteryear!
Where once a "C" cup I did envelope, I am now longing to fulfill the glory of the "A" which seems to be no match for my dwindled, less-than-A-worthy ladies. I need to regress back to the likes of a trainer...training bra, that is (as a side note, I completely don't understand the purpose of the training bra. For what, pray tell, are we training them? You either strap those bad boys in a harness or you don't. No training, prerequisites, or prep courses needed.) This may be the only time in my life I've longed to say "I have a C". Hell, after going this long in A-dom, I'd take a couple D's! These soldiers don't even solute Lt Hubby anymore. It's sad...I know. Where once they stared him directly in the eye, now they hang their head in shame. I only don a bra daily out of shear formality. Well...and honestly, I'm trying desperately to bring them front and center so they can attempt to hold someones attention...anyones attention!
Don't get me wrong. Becoming a mama brings lots and lots of new experiences, joys, and blessings...but I've learned that it's tit for tat, people! And I think we all know what "tit" to which I'm referring?! I nursed the first 5 dudes (remember #6 was gifted to us for a very hefty price and hence my ta-tas got to retire...thank God.), and it never fails that I am left in complete disappointment when I reclaim my boobs as my own. After every dude, I'm left with less boobage than where I started. What the hell is that about? Just an observation that if I have to lose a whole cup size with every child...then Lt Hubby (and every other man) should have to suffer from size shrinkage as well. I think any deflated, once-had-perky-voluptuous-boobs woman is going to agree with me. Tit for tat should apply in this scenario. No man would ever want more than one kiddo after he suffered the same fate that my "lady bumps" have had to incur. To hell with wishing men had to suffer the same pain experienced throughout pregnancy and childbirth (and post childbirth...ouch!). They need to be hit where it really hurts...and not being able to fill out your once over-flowing boxers would be a very good lesson in experiencing the shoe on the other foot. The main flaw with this theory, however, is that it would just be punishing the lady anyway (Oh come on! You were thinking it too! Don't get all high and mighty with me.)
So I'm left with expensive push-up bras, enhancers, and any other contraption claiming to "add a full cup size". Could it add two...or maybe three? I digress. Until I hit the lottery or all of the dudes are out of the house and we finally have expendable cash, I won't be able to reward myself with my much needed new boobs. I know...it's sad for me too. I even think that if Lt Hubby was being honest, he would say it saddens him as well. Hell! When I wear my sports bra, I could be mistaken for a dude! It's that bad people. I'm sure my 14 year old's pecks are bigger than what I'm sportin'. I guess when I'm 70 I'll finally be able to treat myself to some amazing "lady bumps". I'll be the hottest Granny around! I may be senile and arthritic...but my boobs are going salute every perverted old fart in the "old folks home"!!
- I am a SAHM of 6 little dudes. My hubby's jobs require him to be away from home way more than I would like leaving me to fly solo more often than not. Since Dr. Phil won't return my calls, and Oprah has unfriended me, my therapy has now gone public! Here is where I go to receive cheap advice, reassurance and hopefully share some laughs. Honeslty, I'd love to make you laugh until you pee! So come, grab a cup of coffee (or vodka) and join in the conversation!