Dear Breasts

Dear Breasts,

Why? What happened to us, or more importantly what happened to you? I held up my end of the deal. I have loved you, held you, played with you, flaunted you, fondled you, put you a hypothetical pedestal for as long as I can remember. I have spent more money on providing you with a warm supportive embrace than on any other items in my wardrobe.

I have lathered you in coco butter to keep you smooth and supple. During that short clubbing phased, I even let you wear glitter! I have proudly exclaimed you as my favorite attribute, sacrificing the feelings of my eyes and smile. Pushing you high above the appropriate necklines, I allowed you to become my defining feature in the teen years.

Remember our first Mardi Gras? We had so much fun. I let you girls take center stage. I gave you both your moment in the spotlight and boy how you shined. Remember high school? I kept grimy perverse hands from you; reserving you for only those I thought worthy of your awe inspiring fullness…. at least it seemed that way at the time.

When you showed up overnight at the tender age of 12, I did not get angry. I welcomed you with open arms, and it took both of them to keep you up. I forgave you, left boob, when you decided to make a surprise appearance at my wedding reception. I forgave you both of growing so out of control that I can never own lingerie or a store bought bikini. I have always forgiven you!

We were best friends. You were my wing women, helping me to snag up my husband. You helped me to excel in tip earning jobs. You made up for all the things I didn’t like about myself. You gave me self esteem I so desperately needed. I have always loved you, but now….. why have you failed me?

I have pampered, primped, and primed you for the day you would fulfill your one true purpose, your destiny, your meaning in life. I have been the Merlin to you, my King Authurs. I have been preparing you for an important role, unbeknownst you. You know what though breast? Authur pulled the freaking sword out of the stone and united a whole freaking kingdom!

All you had to do?……. Produce milk.

Your one purpose! The one thing you were born, bred, built, created for… milk. Generations of biology and subconscious chemical attraction has led you to me. You had ONE job, ONE J-O-B! I poured my love and devotion into you. Even after every suggestion from others, I never once even considered having you reduced. I supported you and your overwhelming neediness knowing that one day you would return the favor. Lies!

You even let me believe my failure at breast feeding 4 years ago was MY fault! After massaging, supplementing, changing my diet, drinking herbal teas, trying every wives tale and doctor’s suggestion, I learned it was you all along. You made me look weak, embarrassed even, when pro-milk moms would ask why I didn’t breast feed, they would assume I was making excuses or just lazy.

So now I go, to prepare bottles for the $20 can of formula I had to go out and get after midnight. Preparing bottles for my son, OUR son, which you helped bring into this world with your seductive bouncing only to ignore him like a useless baby daddy once he arrived. This is your fault breasts. I did my part. I leave you with this, you deserve every inch of saggage coming your way, TRAITORS!

Sincerely,

One disappointed formula feeding mother with a useless rack.