Hmmm…. That’s all I can really say
Honestly, I totally give up on trying to pack these boobs! Yes, you heard right…my boobs.
See nobody told me when I was a little teenager waiting patiently for my blessed jugs to appear that they will later nose dive as they have. For goodness sake I am not even 40 yet. I cannot even bear thinking about how they will look like when I hit the big 4-0! Will there even be anything left to pack? Haba…. e no good o.
Well I will give you a background to help you feel my pain. I remember when I was in Senior Secondary School year 1. All my friends had grown their boobies. I mean full fledged ones. I did not even have any trace. It was so annoying. Seeing as many of them had began to sprout theirs as we finished primary school, it was not surprising that I had become very impatient with mother nature. Surely I was not going to be forgotten! I had too much brain-dowment ,perhaps that was why my physical en-dowment was lagging behind.
At one point, I even contemplated putting some foams in my bra-tops….
Oh those blessed bra- tops. I had worn the glory out of them. sometimes I wondered why my mother even bothered. There were no breasts to even cover. I am sure if the manufacturer knew me, they would have named the underwear “chest-tops” for my sake. I like to think that I had very good friends (never mind what they may have said about this subject behind my back) . None of my friends said anything to hurt me. They knew more than most that where I was lacking physical endowment, I compensated for with my sharp tongue.
So what if I had no boobs?
Had they not heard about late bloomers? That was my bold face talking. The gospel truth was that I was hurting even though I never showed it. I ignored the looks on their faces when they talked about their puberty related woes. Imagine them crying about painful menstruation when some of us did not even have boobs. Please don’t get me started on the silly red ninja. That one took her time to arrive. Story for another day.
So having waited for more than a few years for my blessed boobies, I spent most of the time praying for sizeable ones. After all the patient dog always ate the fattest bone right? I even planned what type of bras I would be buying. I expected that I would be endowed with large sized paw-paws. I did my research on how to avoid the back pain many of my friends attributed to their over sized boobies.
Then, just before the end of my secondary education, my boonies finally arrived. Haaaaallleluyah!
It happened so quickly and even embarrassed me in the process I am not going to lie. I went home one summer holiday bare chested as usual and resumed in September fully bloomed. The blessed boobies arrived with a bang and who was I to even complain? My prayers had been answered. They say be careful what you wish for but this time, I wanted every “large surprise” that I could get. When school started, I did not go unnoticed… at least not by the boys. They had their heads turning and even some lips wagging. I got nicknamed “young shall grow” that term. I was not even sure if it was a compliment or mockery. Whichever way, I took it in my own stride and ignored it. Those were the glory days. The stupid boobs did not grow as large as I wanted. They were not even the standing ones.
Oh don’t tell me that you had no idea about breast categories?
Well, let me enlighten you. There were those that stood at attention, those that always pointed downwards, the ones that came with eraser nipples the types that managed to escape with a paint on nipple. Seriously, the last category were boobs that looked like God had run out of nipple material during boob production. Well, since my intention is not to paint you a picture of the boobs I finally got, your guess is as good as mine when I say I was very disappointed with what I got considering how long I had waited for the blessed boobs.
Thankfully I was a christian and did not lack in the department of faith so I hoped for the price in future. I heard that there was a Canaan of maturity where women acquired literal milk (for their children) and honey (for their boob sucking and squeezing husbands). In that boob Canaan, all boobs bulked up and responded to life by growing big enough to satisfy their owners.I waited and bore my pre-motherhood disappointments forever looking forward to welcoming my husband and babies one day.
As a result, my wedding day became my happiest day for more reasons than normal as you are now fully aware of.
Bang, bang, bang….
I wanted to start having children without any further ado.
He, like all men had other ideas. We need to plan, we need to save he said. Let us not rush. We need to give them a steady future….all that was bla bla bla to me. I needed my kiddies.
So one day, period got lost in the post and bam! I was pregnant.
I watched daily as my boobs metamorphosed into huge jugs. By the time the babies arrived, I was as huge as a cow. I breastfed them. The more I did, the more they grew. After the initial boob pains of breastfeeding, I was blossoming, blooming. I went many cup sizes up. I achieved bra cup sizes that I could have only ever dreamed of. My cleavage was so huge. I did not even need push-ups to bring the breasts together.
Sadly after the last breast feed, I did what every mum does. I weaned the child. That was when it all began to go wrong. Harsh realities of life!
The boobs shrank so much you will think they were squeezed out. They pointed down and took up permanent residence downwards. No matter what I did, they just looked limp, flat…slippers-like.
chai…diariz God o!
My darling husband kept saying he loved me as I was. I was beautiful anyway he always said.
Hmm… this beauty was truly in the eyes of the beholder, even I needed Xray googles to see behold it myself.
I had to start buying the push ups, wired bras, padded bras…. and all was well again. Now here is why I am telling you all this. I bought these pair of double padded, 2 sizes up bra last week. It promised instantaneous bulk up in the boob department and I think it delivered on that note. However, what they did not say was that my chest would feel constricted or that I will become very self conscious of my boobs. I was checking them out every time I passed a mirror. I even got attention from others. I could hardly breathe.It made me question what all the point about my boob craze was.
Was it really the boobs or was it just me?
It was me not accepting the scars of life. I have to learn to accept what I have. I have to appreciate what I have and stop longing for what I do not have. It was an exhausting chase and quest for perfection. It was so unreal and it had to stop before it would consume me. I am really beautiful no matter my shape or form. Everything about that you see is material and passing. What really matters is the person inside. If you are like me, then do not despair. It is normal to want more but what is not normal is to be consumed by the pursuit of more.
We are woman beings and it is woman nature to want more.
However, on this note, I give up on this mission and accept what I have. After all, nobody is perfect!
Thanks for reading.
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Photo credit: Pixabay