Champagne Carolyn wrote a terrific article the other day on her magnificent and lovely, lady lumps.
It’s been percolating in my brain ever since and so today I bring you my viewpoint on the subject.
I have always had a substantial pair of globes. I can’t recall how many times I have actually been manhandled in pubs and clubs. Admittedly I never hid them too well.
But I don’t think that means it’s okay to be harassed, do you? I’m not kidding you, but dudes have seriously come up to me with their hands outstretched in a perverse zombie walk and GRABBED MY BOOBS. One time I slapped a bloke on the cheek when he did it and he was so shocked he said, ‘What was that for?”
Really? What was it for? Talk about dense.
Anyway, I moved on and had babies and stopped going out. It was somewhat horrifying that my knockers grew to an intimidating size 16G. And my poor second baby was minute. He was a six-pounder with a head like an orange. I would look down when I was putting him on the boob and I would think that his noggin was like a tiny meteor with a gigantic planet coming towards him.
Oh, and if you weren’t aware, breasfeeding is actually very tricky with massive bazoombas. Requires much pillowing, lifting and strategic positioning (but I am very thankful I could manage it). Then there’s the maternity bras, engineered as much as the Harbour Bridge. And don’t even think about trying to run; moving at a pace other than glacial results in much spirited rebounding.
What it all boils down to, I guess, is that my bosoms were alright when I was young – albeit in that whorey Pammy Anderson way. Unfortunately, they are not super-awesome for my current requirements. And I’m not quite sure how I feel about them.
Especially seeing as they look more like kohlrabi than melons. Actually like kohlrabi in daggy, flesh coloured socks, dangling down to my waist.
Sorry if this is frightening to you. It is true. Truly.
So my response to Champagne Carolyn and her gorgeous boobs is this: I am fond of my boobs because they are a part of me and they are healthy (touch wood) and without them I may not have met my boob-loving husband. But quite frankly right now they’re slightly dud-ish. If I won the lotto I would possibly consider having a reduction and a lift (although I don’t know if I could actually go through with it).
Maybe I should treat myself to a Quickpick.
If your boobs were a vegetable what would they be? Would you ever go under the knife?