I’ve had boobs on my mind lately. C’mon, you can’t blame me. We’re romance writers. They do factor into our lives, at least a little.
In novels, they undulate, heave, quiver, jiggle, surge, swell, throb… well, you get the picture.
But in real life, they play an odd role. As little girls, we’re ignorant of them until we realize half the population has them. And then we’re fascinated, watching what other women do with them, wondering what it will be like when we get them. Once they start coming in, they’re a tender curiosity, a diabolical cauldron of embarrassment and pride. And then start the comparisons. Whose are bigger, smaller, perkier, firmer? When that first foreign hand presses against them, the alchemy of excitement and apprehension grows. What did he think? Did he like them? Do I like them? After the teenage years, we spend our 20s, getting comfortable with them. Pushing them up, flattening, enhancing, reducing, displaying and eventually (hopefully) coming to terms with what nature endowed.
Just when we “sort of” get used to them, the inevitable comes and they are transformed from ornamental decorations to living, breathing self-sustaining nourishing appendages. And once again, we worry: too much milk? not enough?.. will this cracking and bleeding ever stop? And how is it possible that watching the eyes of a little one can melt away tiredness, soreness, frustration?
Once they cease as a milking implement, next comes the readjustment. A coming to terms with the memory of the perkiness of those early years compared with the remnants of the ravagery committed in the spirit of motherhood.
And just as we’re railing at the unfairness of sagginess and stretch marks, comes a call into our world, reminding us that life is as ethereal as a spider web and that our boobs, the object of affection, nourishment and womanhood can also be a vehicle for death. A gnarled irony gift-wrapped in a paradox that can make us toss out all the previous worries and gladly hand over those cancerious appendages to be Guillotined without a moment hesitation so we have more seconds, minutes, hours, days and years with the owners of those little eyes we once nourished. And if we’re really lucky, to be around for the men in our lives who have stood by us through perkiness, cracked nipples, sagginess and who will continue to love us with or without our boobs.
Remember to take care of your ta-tas ladies.
14 thoughts on “Boobs on my Mind”
A timely post, Masha. My mother was just diagnosed with a return of breast cancer and is facing a mastectomy later this month. In November I had a biopsy on a suspicious spot (turned out to be just calcification, but it was alarming sure enough). I add to your exhortation: do, do, do take care of the ta-tas.
I’m so sorry to hear this Keely. I was the primary caregiver for my mother-in-law when she fought breast cancer. The chemo, the drugs, the surgeries, the radiation… no fun for anyone. Please tell your mother to stay strong and I hope all ends well.
Oh Keely! Sending your mom good vibes!
This post just shows that with anything in life, it’s all about perspective. As a woman, I’ve been through all of these stages except the last one, thank God. But you’re absolutely right, Masha! We need to take care of our ta-tas and remind the women in our life to make time for that as well.
Thanks for the reminder!
Thank you, Masha, for this timely post. I will have my mammogram next Monday and thank all those daring researchers who found ways for us to take care of our ta-tas. Here’s to the women who flaunt them, or feed with them, or fight the bigC.
Thanks, too, for making me cry, as I remembered my dear friends who lost the battle.
Respect the ta-tas!!!!! And that means being careful.
On a lighter note, this is one more thing that scares the bejesus out of me in terms of becoming a mother some day. “too much milk? not enough?.. will this cracking and bleeding ever stop?” – ahhhh! Gross! I’m going to go throw up in my mouth now. You mothers scare me! 😉
My thoughts are with your mother.. it’s so tough, this nasty disease. I’m glad all went well with your.
Wow Kim.. I’m sorry. But I’m glad all is well.
Susan, I’m sorry for your losses. Keeping all crossed for next Monday!
Kerri, I PROMISE.. all this motherhood stuff sounds a lot worse than it actually is.. just ask Kim.. she did it 5 times!
I have teenage girls. Major topic of conversation.
Hi Mama Masha,
You even write about boobs well! I’m not super duper comfortable talking about them, especially mine, (think I’m forever stuck in the awkward teeny bopper stage) but I really enjoyed your post and thank you so much for putting the Boob word out on the streets today, or in our case, the pond waters. My stepmom has kicked the patooties off of breast cancer a few times now and absolutely, we have to take care of the ta-tas!
Thank you for a wonderful post as always Masha, and the important reminder to take care of the girls. 😉
Masha – Boobs. I love that word, it cracks me up every time. I’ve decided that boobs are like hair – you’re never quite a hundred percent happy but as long as you’re feeling confident whatever you do with them makes them look good. 🙂
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