Being a woman that has always been very thin (hey, put down the pitchforks, ladies, I have my “stuff”, I promise) I have always been a little ‘light in the cups’ if you know what I mean. I was a dancer so it suited me and growing up, I just told myself that I was proportionate so it all worked out. I wore all of the cute tops regardless, feeling that my true soul mate would just have to be a butt man.
Them’s the breaks, kid. You can’t have it all.
Then, one day, I looked down at the girls in a shirt I never quite filled out and realized that it looked…pretty spectacular. Four days later I created a plus sign on a stick. For the rest of my pregnancy they just became bigger and bigger and I fell more and more in love with them.
They were glorious! I used to (I can’t make this up) bounce up and down in front of my husband exclaiming, “Just look at them bounce! Amazing!”, an a daily basis. This may seem strange to all of my well endowed counterparts but when you are someone that has never been graced with the joy of super bouncy fun bags…it’s like getting a new and fantastic toy. It’s tricky showing those puppies off as you gain weight in the midsection but I managed.
Hey, I never said I wasn’t a little white trash, here.
Then, as quickly and magically as they came into my life, they were gone. The moment the hormones shifted back into their rightful categories, along with them went the big, beautiful breastis’s that came with them.
Oh, the agony!
For you men out there, it’s like you get a new car. Maybe that sports car or big, powerful truck that you always wanted. Sure, you were fine with your Hyundai for years, it got great gas mileage and was super reliable, but once you drive that dream car (with all the horsepower and pizazz)…your Hyundai now looks like a dumpy piece of crap that you can’t believe that you ever liked in the first place. Then someone just shows up in the middle of the night and takes your dream car right out of your driveway while you are sleeping.
That’s what it feels like.
Of course, I could purchase my dream tits for the low, low price of more-money-than-I-could-ever-justify-spending-on-myself-EVER but in reality, that will never happen. So then I was stuck with the old boobs that, all of the sudden, just weren’t good enough anymore.
What to do, what to do?
So I went out on a search of cost effective methods for making myself look and feel better. Which, if this whole subject is new to you…is pretty much like throwing rims and a cheap custom paint job on a Hyundai. You can pretend it’s a sport’s car, but under all of that chrome and sparkle paint, it’s still a piece of junk. But, hey, I’m married so the worry of having to explain them when the bra comes off isn’t really an issue, right?
Plus, as predicted, my husband is a butt man, so he just thinks I’m a loony tunes female for being a grown woman that stuffs her bra, but loves me anyway.
Shut up, Willy Wonka! So I came across these little gems….
Which are appropriately named Chicken Cutlets (ingest at your own risk) and actually work quite nicely if you can get past the idea that you feel like this…
When what I really need to do is go back to being like this…
Okay, so I am no Kiera Knightly, but I have to say that I did okay back in my hay day. Darn you, pregnancy, for giving me something that I couldn’t keep! Though, on second thought, maybe that wasn’t so bad of a trade to get rid of the crazy pants hormones that made me cry in a gas station because the Slurpee machine was out of order (true story).
Or the leg cramps that kept me awake most of the night.
Or the shopping for new clothes that you will never fit into again while crying about the size on the tag.
Or the waddling around like you are auditioning for Happy Feet.
Or the heartburn from anything but water (give me a break, it’s a carrot stick, for goodness sake!)
Yes, sometimes it’s better to just let go of the past. And get yourself a really nice set of chicken cutlets. Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know. 😉
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.