All I ever wanted in life was big boobs. Picture it….Sackville Nova Scotia, 1983, a fiery tempered red head toddler busts out the screen door wearing nothing but a diaper and a training bra. That little girl was me and the bra, my sisters. Yup. I also remember putting the peaks of the my little pony castle in my shirt and singing Madonna’s, “like a virgin”. Okay, so not my proudest moments. The point is, this desire for breasts started young and followed me through my whole life so you can imagine how excited I was waiting for my post-baby boobies to make their appearance.
Much to my dismay, having a nice rack came with a price. The hot leaky mess under my shirt was not what I signed up for. I had to wear a bra day and night for two weeks straight just to contain those bad boys and once I finally decided to let the puppies air out a bit, I went through 4 soaking wet shirts a night. Egyptian cotton sheets? Ruined! I headed to Wal-mart to pick out their finest set of polyester bedding to see me through.
Eventually my milk supply did even itself out and the first opportunity I had to enjoy the girls was at my husbands work Christmas party.
I had a gorgeous little black cocktail dress with the tags still on, sitting in my closet waiting to be shown a good time. It was knee length and had layers of beautiful flowing organza draping from the empire waist. It had spaghetti straps and deep v neck, which left Mary-Kate and Ashley looking their finest.
Baby asleep? check! Milk thawed in the fridge? check! Responsible babysitter hired? check! Hubby looked and smelled great and I felt beautiful for the first time since I came out of the stirrups. After arriving at the party, it wasn’t long after my first missed feeding that I started to feel the tingles as my milk let down. I was fully equipped for that so I didn’t worry too much. By the second missed feeding I noticed my dress getting a little tighter so I made an impromptu trip to the ladies room. I couldn’t believe my eyes, my cleavage had grown considerably since I arrived and my dress, originally worn to emphasize my new assets did exactly that… emphasize my assets. I didn’t bring my pump…I mean what was I going to do? Go into a stall and turn it on while my husbands colleagues went in and out of the bathroom? It was when I returned to my table that I realized the couple across from us had also noticed my inflating breasts. It’s as if I had an air pump under the table and every hour they would inflate a little more! By the end of the night, my deep V neck was nothing more than two small triangles big enough to cover my nipples so I made my way through the crowd avoiding eye contact at all costs. Although my husband had a great time cracking jokes at my secret struggle throughout the night, I have decided that I am quite content with my breasts just the way they are and the moral of the story is, be careful what you wish for!4