I am a boob girl. I admit it. I have been a boob girl for a long time; long before my own rack sort of betrayed me and threatened my very existence on this planet.
Let me give you the life story of my boobs.
You see, I was flat chested - yes, like a boy until nearly twelve years old when I developed these sort of puffy nipple things. Of course, I thought I was a mutant and I felt incredibly insecure with these newly changed boobies, er, um, nipples. The puff was enough to show through my shirt, but not quite enough to require a bra (or at least not enough to convince my mother that I NEEDED a bra). Over the next five years my boobs grew at a microscopically painful pace – leading me to be barely a B-cup by college. Somehow, between getting married at twenty-two and by the time I had my first baby at twenty-four, I suddenly had a full-on set pair of jugs – overfilling a D-cup (okay, a DD-cup - arg!) with mammary glandage galore (no, that is not me below, but I had to prove my point, right?).
Now if you have not guessed this about me yet, I am crazy. How crazy? Someone once asked me how much I thought my "girls" weighed. My scientific mind had to know: what portion of my weight was indeed attributable to the melons on my chest! Do not shake your head....and yes (!), I did indeed weigh my boobs. (ALRIGHT - one was nearly 10 pounds and the other was nearly 11 pounds. 21 very heavy pounds of boob - I bet you find that titillating?)
Owning a set of gigantic breasts has its pros and it has its cons: “fun bags” as my husband lovingly referred to them and yet, I hated them when it required three (yes, you read 3!) athletic bras – industrial-sized, steel-toed variety of over-the-shoulder-boulder holders to work out. Have YOU ever tried to run with 21 lbs of melon? I did not think so.
You see, my rack made me exceptionally curvy – and that seemed to off-set the very round nature and bulging circumference of my rear end and my hips. However, I was literally often busting at the seams on my business jackets or testing the ultimate strength of a button so strategically placed right at the maximum perimeter of my bust line on my shirt. Designers do NOT have 21 lbs of boob in mind when designing clothes or bathing suits.
Eating with a 10 inch line of cleavage is certainly a challenge as well. What? Yes, one would find crumbs that managed to use the plummeting gravity from my mouth to well under the massive sea of breasts. You never knew what you would find in there at the end of the day - I always said that it was the biggest "letdown" of the day once I removed my brassiere.
Overall, my boobs were an asset to be enjoyed; until August 31, 2007 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Less than 1cm away from a stage 3 diagnosis, my left boob had betrayed me by harboring a large, golf ball sized tumor right at the 12 o’clock position about 1-2 inches above my nipple. Yes, my “fun bag” contained a little ticking time bomb filled with a very aggressive form of cancer that would kill me. I was upset because I felt this little grenade about five months prior, but I chose to ignore it by making every excuse that it was nothing to worry about. I was upset, because had I not unexpectedly gotten pregnant, I would have waited at least another six months and clearly, I would not be here writing this now.
In 2009, I had reconstruction surgery on my breasts. I still had my breasts – I could not have a mastectomy while pregnant so they simply gave me a half-a-boobectomy in between my chemotherapy regiments. I had one and a half boobs and they were going to fix them; as well as give me a lift (any mother of three kids dream, right??? Perky boobs again? No more 21 lbs of boob?).
My boobs are not very attractive anymore. However, they are MY boobs. They are still very lopsided due to the radiation treatment (one is firmer than the other). However, they are also (knock on wood) cancer-free boobs. I can get away with no bra (actually uncomfortable on my scar lines) and my boobs are not at my knees or “long” as in one of my prior posts. I can wear ONE athletic bra. They are still deemed “fun bags” by the man in my life. (NO, I have NOT weighed them since!)
I still love boobs. My boobs. Your boobs. All boobs in between. Yes, they are nice to look at (I am confident enough to state that publicly). Yes, they are super nice to feel (I have been known to offer a "free" self-exam)! However, I also want your boobs to remain healthy.
My advice to you is to be aware – not that breast cancer exists, because I know you know it exists and I will not slap you incessantly with any more pink garb. Check and see if your pink purchase actually increases YOUR risk for cancer by your usage or consumption of known carcinogenic ingredients.
Most importantly, stay in tune to your body; if something seems off or a symptom does not go away in two weeks – CALL YOUR DOCTOR! Guess what - my breast cancer hurt! I had shooting pains and it was not simply PMS. Do not be a total "boob" like me and ignore your symptoms! I would not wish the countless surgeries and procedures, the multiple doses of varying chemotherapies or radiation on anyone.
Because, after all, I think we are ALL the boob type!
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