AllyJay
8 years agoMember
Thanks for the Mammaries.
Well here I am on the final countdown to my double mastectomy. Six more sleeps and the girls are gone. My first remembered awareness of my boobs changing, was me being a bridesmaid for an older cousin. I was 13 and my other cousin (the other bridesmaid) was a year older. We were both wearing A line dresses and I was a size 6A and she was a 12B. I was mortified by my flat chest. Come high school, and still...two peas on a breadboard whilst the other girls had "real boobs". I was soooo jealous. Still very small, but maybe Brussels Sprouts my my late teens, but I had hope of larger things to come. Finally I grew "real" boobs, with cleavage, when pregnant, and the following breastfeeding brought them to their full and productive glory. Two years four months for my son, and two years and one month for my daughter. Then...horror...they deflated!!! I remember commenting to my husband that I needed new bras after her weaning and the rotter said "Why not just roll them up like Swiss rolls and tie ribbons around?" Guess who went on short rations after that!! Then, as I entered my mid thirties, and a very early menopause, they magically grew again to a previously only dreamed of 18D. Now they have turned traitor, and are trying to kill my, so, off they come after being doused in some real toxic soup for the past six months. Come Wednesday, they'll only be a memory and I'll be back to my thirteen year old chest...such is the wheel of life... Please join me in saying farewell to them in as many languages as we can. "Cheers"... "Totsiens (Afrikaans):..."Hambe Kahhe (Zulu)".