Sometimes I forget they’re there. Sometimes they need that (oops, hope no one’s looking) adjustment ….yes, I adjust my boobies like a man adjusts his privates. Men, just be glad you don’t have underwires in your jockey shorts.
There was a day not so long ago where I made that appointment to get squished. It was awkward and embarrassing to be in a hospital gown being “adjusted” by a female x-ray technician.. not one of my happiest moments, but I just kept telling myself, “I’m doing this so I may someday be a grey-haired grandma playing on the floor with all my grandkidlets”.
I thought about breast cancer while driving back to work. My mom died of breast cancer. She hated going to the doctor and never got a check up. I thought if I got sick, I’d cut them off in a heartbeat to stay alive and be around for my kids (then I could get a boob job and be all perky…(kidding). Needless to say I wasn’t having a sexy, I feel good about my body, kinda day.
That night, while reading and snuggling with my three year old son, he slyly cops a feel. I take this (woah, where’d that come from?!) moment to talk to him about people’s privates and how we should keep our hands to ourselves. I asked him why he did that and he said, “Cuz they’re pretty.”
Boys are male-ish and males are boyish. And mommy has pretty, healthy boobies. And life goes on.