One day not too long ago, I looked down at my body with a twisted face and gasped. "What in the hell happened to me?" I thought to myself while staring at the aftermath of what my 29 year old body has gone through. I lucked out and didn't get many stretch marks from two pregnancies, so it wasn't so much what happened to the lower half of me, but the top half.
I've nursed two babies. My breasts have done their job, punching the time clock at the milk factory every three hours for two years. This year they even worked overtime, on the hour every hour for a week straight. They are now retired and it shows.
In the past when someone mentioned how they wanted to go under the knife, I always wondered why they couldn't accept their body for how it was. Just be happy with what you've got! In fact, months ago while I was still nursing Carter, I had a conversation with Bill about it as we were watching some kind of plastic surgery show on TV. "I don't get it. Why would someone spend all of that money on their body? There's so much danger in surgery and then you have to go back every 10 years or so to get replacements? Wow! We're all going to get old, ugly and wrinkly anyway. What's the point?"
At the time, I might have been in the "working" mindset. The frame of mind in which my body was doing it's job and these parts were employed for a very important and specific task - to feed my babies. They were not multi-purpose or held two jobs (if you will).
Now that nursing is over and they will never need to return to slave labor? I get it now.
I've never been "blessed" in this area. In fact, of all the women in my family, I got the short end of the stick with these genetics. For a long time I was fine with that. I accepted that this was how I was built, these were the cards that I was dealt and I didn't obsess about how I could be different. I was fine with how everything changed after nursing Logan. Really, they weren't very different! But then, after Carter? Wow, did things change. And I'm not happy nor accepting of it.
I think it may be one thing to accept how you were born, but it's another thing to accept how you've changed. It's a hard pill for me to swallow. I think of stretch marks as "battle scars" (maybe because I don't have too many). Wider hips give a more womanly shape. However, there's nothing positive about deflated, small (and smaller than they were) boobs.
If we had the money, I'd change how things are. These retirees should get decent pension for a job well done. I'd get an upgrade and they'd get to travel around in a brand new RV rather than a beat up Oldsmobile.