Booby Wonderful!

#Breastfeedingweek 1st-7th August


Opinion artical on boob, from a member of the itty bitty titty committee.

My cis experience of boobs has been a strange one, I’m not alone, in order to help anyone with a similar experience Im sharing mine.

Breasts are so weird! They Are theses lumps of fat and tissue, with nipples like cis men’s but that aren’t aloud out like theirs. They are often named the girls or my puppies or theses babies. 

Boobs are there to feed babies and for the owner of love lumps to enjoy.

I never enjoyed mine. They were tiny. I had these puffy 50p size areola and nipples like chapel hat pegs. I wore solid foam cupped bras so my nipple erections were never seen and loathe swimming because at the time, swimsuits didn’t have this option.

I hated my boobs, one was noticeably bigger than the other and I was mortified, offended when the girl at la senza handed me a bra with one foam filled of padding removed to even out their look. She noticed, she knew, it’s not just in my head, I felt so ashamed.

I heard that breastfeeding would even out my lopsided mini mounds. (It didn’t.)  Age 18 or 19 I’d got one nipple pierced in an attempt to be cool and distract anyone who saw them of their odd ness. Turns out that was a lot of people when I got drunk and flashed them and again when I got a back tattoo tried going braless by necessity. My boobs were never mine for me.

While braving a maternity swim, in the changing room I  heard a woman refer to her boobs as spaniels ears, small flaps of skin where tiny pert boobies used to be before she breast fed. WHAT? small boobssag too?! That’s what was going to happen to me! They will fill up with milk and deflate when it’s all dried up.

There was this nagging feeling in my head as soon as I knew I had to use these to feed a baby. It was going to be gross. I wasn’t looking forward to the idea of it at all. 

I had a baby, I was “off my tits” and out of it a lot, he latched on, fed, we went home. My milk came in, never had I known size and tenderness like it. My areola were stretched tight like canvas over doughnuts of full firm nutrience. The skin was tingly, itchy but I had boobs that looked how I was taught boobs should look.

Everything hurt for 2 weeks so I don’t remember much. I remember getting a cream for my nipples because they were so chapped. Every time he latched on I had to do breathing exercises to breathe through the pain. The visiting midwife confirmed it was a good latch, I wasn’t doing it wrong. She looked at my blondey ginger hair and said it’s probably just sensitive skin and they’ll tough up.

My tough tits did ok, my baby got fat and grew, I was congratulated on making good milk. I felt useful. I thanked my boobs. I got one out any time, any where this little bundle of need needed. I wore ugly comfy bras and washable leak protection ( one turned up in my washing machine filter when he was 18months, Bag your small washables! ) I smelt of sweet, sour milk a lot. I often had a bra on, but when I didn’t all it took was a cry from him and they would leak. I often got drenched as he fed from one side the other side made a fountain until I learnt to practically stick my finger in my boob through the nipple to stop it.

Turns out I loved breastfeeding. Something I was good at, I fed him till he was a year old and I went back to uni. Over a decade later I have learnt a lot about my body, my relationship with it, where I have had difficulties and why. Learning how to put them right, to feel worthy in myself and to appreciate my mind and the meat sack that it inhabits.

I love drawing and sharing images of all kids of boobs or non at all on mermasaurs because we all have bodies and they all need love and care. Drawing the unpolished versions of mumhood is fun because i get to have those little conversations about how nice it is to see, un airprushed idealized versions of bodies after babies.




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