There are many things I have set out to accomplish in creating this life of mine. (which I am totally digging, by the way …)
I made a list of things about my Self that I found, well … lacking. My breasts, the one true body issue I have had the past several years, made it on the list. See, I’m a slim chick and have always had rather smallish, but well-formed breasts. “What happened?” … MOTHERHOOD. Ya … you heard me …
I went from a very average size bosom to (pardon me) gi-normous breasts during my pregnancy/breastfeeding cycles. After 3 kids, it takes a toll … Actually, they never truly recovered after the first kid, but I digress …
The point is, I was self-conscious. Saggy, deflated … these were the words I used to describe the essence of my nurturing mother-self. I used to fantasize about a solid C cup, but do not personally believe augmentation is appropriate for me (the person who preaches radical self-acceptance and self-love). So, instead I silently prayed “Please, God … just fill them back in …” Trying breast massage, and reading about creams; I would decry the tragic irony of the universe. “I nursed 3 children! You’d think I’d get rewarded with a splendid rack! But, no …”
So, it’s settled then … this is what I’ve got. Time for me to love the ladies. Setting the intention, I stopped all negative self-talk about my breasts. So they’re small … so they aren’t voluptuous … They gave life and nourishment to 3 amazing people, caressed and seduced lovers, gave countless numbers of hugs, and are guardians to the seat of this woman’s spirit … the heart. They nurture, love, fulfill … and if I don’t love them, who will?
So, these mini goddesses of mine … I love them very much. They’ve been with me for quite a while now, and I finally know to treat them with the proud dignity, love and respect they deserve. They’re soft, sensual, sexy as hell, and quite beautiful actually.
I may be slim on the outside, but I’m voluptuous on the inside … and that’s what really counts. Right, ladies?