I’ve been thinking a lot about breasts lately.
There are two reasons for this. One is that I went to see a new doctor and, as she did the routine breast exam, she exclaimed several times, “Wow, your breasts are really dense. REALLY dense.” It did not seem to be a compliment.
The other is that my 22-year-old niece just moved in with us, and she has a gorgeous 22-year-old rack.
So there am I, with my aging-nursed-four-kids-each-for-an-entire-year-until-I-couldn’t-take-it-anymore DENSE breasts, and there’s my niece with her gorgeous young voluptuous hoo-hahs–and if you think we haven’t been teasing each other like crazy, you don’t know my family.
“D.B.” is her and my teenage son’s new nickname for me.
Am I jealous of my niece’s gorgeous young high breasts? Damn straight I am.
Years ago–not many people know this so don’t tell anyone–I considered breast surgery. I didn’t want anything big or bouncy, I just wanted to get back to what I had before nursing four kids. With maybe a little more lift. Actually, a lot more lift. I wanted my breasts to be where they were supposed to be and not bobbing for apples down around my navel. I called someone I knew for a recommendation and told her that a, um, “friend of mine” was thinking about getting a boob job. She said, “You shouldn’t do this.” I said, “It’s not for me–it’s for a friend.” She said, “You’ll regret it. Just work on your posture: standing up straight is better than getting painful, unnecessary surgery.” I said, “I’ll tell my friend you said that.” “There are still a lot of risks associated with it,” she said. “You really should think long and hard about it.” “My friend takes it very seriously,” I assured her. “Don’t get a boob job,” she said before hanging up.
So I didn’t. Instead I discovered water bras which made my chest so firm and big I couldn’t stop feeling myself up. Now I just get decent padded bras. Out in public, I look fine. At home, at night, once the bras come off, I look . . . like a woman who nursed four kids.
But now I can gaze wistfully at my niece and imagine what it would be like to wear low-cut shirts and look like THAT.
You know what? It’s really true: youth is wasted on the young. So are luscious breasts.