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?