I was lying in bed with my husband recently when he said something that cut me to the core.
I had my top off as I normally do to sleep, and he made a joke about my deflated post-baby boobs.
“I’ll have to call you my pirate with the shrunken chest,” he said, laughing.
“A combination of sadness and rage”
It totally caught me by surprise.
As I lay there feeling self-conscious and trying to cover my shriveled up boobs, I felt a combination of sadness and rage bubbling up.
I looked down at my chest and couldn’t help myself.
“Actually, these shrunken boobs have fed three of your children,” I finally managed to say.
I left the room and my husband knew immediately he had said the wrong thing and hurt my feelings.
He apologized and tried to backpedal, saying he wasn’t a “boobs guy” anyway and didn’t care that my boobs didn’t look like they did when we met in our 20s. Ouch.
The more he talked, the worse it became. He was digging a deeper hole with each rambling, thoughtless comment he made.
“Breastfeeding will do that sometimes”
I let it go and forgave him, but his unkind joke did sting. I guess the reason it hurt so much was because I know my breasts will never look the same after breastfeeding, as much as I loved the experience.
My mum lucked out in that regard. She was pretty flat chested like me pre-kids, but after me and my siblings were born, she ended up with bigger, perkier breasts.
Not me. I went the other way. What was once a 10B is now a 10A at best, and they seem to be heading further south with every year that passes.
I was brutally reminded of this recently when I tried on my old school formal dress and the cups felt like they were up around my neck. I showed my mum and asked her opinion, which you can always count on to be the truth.
“Yep, honey, I see what you mean. Breastfeeding will do that sometimes,” she said.
“I considered having implants”
After having my second child, I was so mortified about the state of my saggy, balloon-like boobs that I even considered having implants.
Three of my girlfriends had gone down that road and had raved about how much more confident they felt afterwards.
But, to my husband’s credit, he begged me not to go ahead with the operation because of any potential health complications that could arise with implants, so I let that idea go and tried to embrace my new body.
Mostly, I’ve accepted the changes that go hand in hand with the blessing that is motherhood. I guess I was just feeling sensitive when my husband cracked that unkind joke.
He now knows that my post-baby body is off limits when it comes to teasing. Likewise, I won’t be making any gags about his expanding waistline or sagging testicles.
Not that I ever would.
