Self appointed, of course. Any woman who is close to my age has read, “Are you there God, it’s Me, Margaret” by Judy Blume. It was the coming of age book of our time in the early 80’s. Not only am I a card carrying member of the Itty Bitty Titty committee, I’ve decided to be president. You know. The decision maker!
As small and sagging as they may be, I still have mine. Original issue. Altered only by four children sucking on them for MAYBE a total of 12 months. Yep. I only made it about 3 months with each child. But I still did it. And they sucked everything out of me. There isn’t much left. I don’t really have any horrific stories of breast feeding other than leaking at inconvenient times. I highly recommend any mother to at least try to breast feed. Many benefits…one being it literally sucks the fat out of you that you gained during pregnancy. And, of course, many benefits to the newborn. I’m no expert on breast feeding, but I do know that if it comes out green after drinking, it’s best to dump it. Thus…the saying…pump and dump!
Back to the original issue pair. The twins. Not identical though. Nobody has identical twins. There is ALWAYS one that sags more than the other. I could always get an augmentation and a lift. ALL of my friends are highly encouraging it. One of their husbands even offered to buy me a pair. Thank you, but I’ll stick with what I have.
Here is my issue with man made breasts. Once you do this, you are stuck with them. Sure, it could make sexual encounters a bit more fun. I’d probably look better in a swimsuit. But, my fellow female friends, I feel like we got screwed in the anatomy game. We can’t be in a swimsuit 24/7. We have to live everyday life. And, if you play sports, well, then…good luck with giant knockers. When I was pregnant, I remember them growing significantly…I was playing golf with my husband and it really messed up how I held the golf club. While holding the golf club, I realize I have to do some serious adjusting. Do I go over them or under them? Damn…they are in the way. Argh…I’m an athlete. I can’t work with the new twins. Go back down so I can continue my sports. My everyday life. But, for a man, it’s different. When he wants to pull out his sexual organ, it grows to a size that’s doable. Engaging. Doing his job. But, when he’s back out there playing his sport or living his life, it goes back down. It fits snugly in its little cup. To protect him. Shrinking to a size that’s workable in everyday life. Seriously, we need an internal pump that makes them go up when needed and down when needed. Where is OUR internal pump?
I really shouldn’t complain. Two months ago, I was asked to do a photo shoot half naked in support of my friends who got breast cancer. Who survived breast cancer. Who didn’t survive. So, I did it. I’m not comfortable being photographed unless there is a person next to me and a drink in my hand. But I did it. Solo. Half naked. In front of several people. No drink in hand. My nerves were shot. But the photographer, Tom De Nolf, immediately put me at ease. He asked me to think about why I was there. What my friend, Letty, meant to me. Think about her and her struggle defeating breast cancer. Why am I so uncomfortable exposing my breasts when I still have mine. Those tiny saggers. Letty had a double mastectomy. Her originals are gone. Her originals almost killed her. And, I’m uncomfortable? Get over it. Stand there and be proud of one of your closest friends escaping death (ok, in all fairness, she does that every time we go out–love you, LLS!). I was there the day she had surgery. 12 hours…can you imagine? I was there during chemo (whipping her ass at Upwords–even though she tells a different story about who won that game!). Have you ever sat with someone during chemo? It’s depressing. People of all ages having chemicals drip into their bodies. You know the ones who won’t survive. But, not Letty. She lit up that place when we walked in. I have no doubt she survived cancer because of her amazing spirit. Her amazing attitude. Her “fuck you cancer…I’m going to whip your ass!” So, here we are two years later, and I’m exposing my breasts for her. For all cancer victims.
So they held the fund raiser the other night raising awareness for breast cancer in a very thought provoking way. Imagine, watching yourself on a large screen (video that is) in front of a few hundred people. Half naked. Exposed. Vulnerable. Watching those tiny, sagging breasts. And watching other women. With NO breasts. Bare chested. And, I’m complaining about my small boobs. My original issue. Untouched and not altered by any surgeon. I stare in awe. I’m grateful. I’m thankful I have friends like Letty who are strong. Who are survivors. We need more women like her (my one nipple wonder dear friend!). I knew we would be life long friends when I met her 10 years ago. As I dropped off my then 2 year old daughter for a playdate. Without ONE diaper (other than the one she was wearing). 8 hours later she called me and asked when I planned to pick her up. I completely forgot she was over there. Letty accepted me. The very flawed and forgetful mother that I was (still am!). That’s a friend. For life!
So, I’m proud to be the self appointed president of the Itty Bitty Titty committee. I’m proud to support my friends. Big, large, small, there, not there, real, not real. Whatever you started with, whatever you ended with.