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Life's Like That - All I want for Christmas....
Sarah Carson
for Spotlight
All sorts of things come with warning labels and possible side-effects. Why not breast-feeding? I mean, someone should be letting young women know what can (will) happen to this one very-important body part. Not anti-breast-feeding material, just a good, honest, information packet.
“Please be aware that breast-feeding your child is likely to result in decreased perkiness and a general decrease in attractiveness of your breasts. Risk of tripping over nipples when unclothed. High probability of either complete disappearance of smaller breasts, or, in larger breasted women, the end result of having to roll breasts sleeping-bag-style into bra.”
If only I’d known….Yes, I did have boobs once. I remember them… vaguely.
Boobs. Hooters. Cones. Headlights. Taa-taas. Rack …or, as one of my wonderfully endowed friends is nick-named by her loving hubby; Jugs. No matter what you call them, they are of interest to the general (especially male) population. My breasts (or at least what now laughingly passes for “breasts”) are a constant source of both amusement and melancholy. Amusement, because I can’t believe that I actually thought they would survive intact into my 30’s, and melancholy because of all the friends who have passed in and out of my life, I miss those two the most.
I read somewhere that 35% of women aren’t wearing the right sized bra. No wonder!! Shopping for the “right sized” bra for me would mean a trek into that part of a store reserved for pubescent teen girls to pick up a tiny, white (oh, the horror!!) training bra…and that would only fit on a really good day when I’m bloated. Picture me there (with my sunglasses & wig) as much younger – and shapelier – 12 years olds breeze by to pick out their pink leopard-print C-cup. I can just see the sales lady stifling a giggle and discreetly handing me a box of band-aids to try instead.
Because I cannot resign myself to (more) utter and complete humiliation, I have stuffed my dresser with bras especially designed for the “petite” woman….by the heft of them, each cup is filled with about 25lbs of gel – guaranteed to give me that “natural look”. They come in 3 oh-so-flattering colours; black, white, and (just to get really crazy) NUDE. It’s not the same, obviously, as having my very own set of boobs. I really wish I had a pair that didn’t come off every evening. Of course, there are some perks (no pun intended); I never have to worry about my bra clashing with my pantyhose. AND I can avoid any morning disasters – you know – having to try to choose between the cornflower blue print and the purple silk with lace overlay must be excruciating. As much as I appreciate these bras giving me some proportion, I do feel a bit weird about the false advertising. I mean, it’s like a fruit seller calling out that she’s got nice melons, but lo and behold, you unwrap your purchase and discover a couple of dried up old raisins….for the time being I guess the only thing to do is stand tall, smile, and wear a t-shirt marked “Buyer beware”.
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