Lately, Maisy has been really into boobs.
Obviously, this is because she remembers that I used to have a pair which happen to have mysteriously disappeared. You can't blame a kid for wondering, can you?
So, like any traumatised kid, Maisy has taken to re creating boobies whenever and with whatever she can. I can't say I blame her. If it was socially acceptable for me to walk around with a chicken nugget and peanut butter sandwich down the front of my shirt, I'd do it...if only to have some sort of shape down there.
What is it about breasts that make us feel....so.....female? My lack of boobs, and the presence of two sacks of skin (so sorry, but trying to paint a picture of reality here) grosses me out every time I accidentally glance them in the mirror. Ew. That's all I can say. Just, "Ew".
15 months (15 months!!) of breastfeeding has lead to a dull future for any of my bras or tight t-shirts. There must be some physiological reason that it works this way: breast feeding leads to ugly breasts...does this make us Moms less likely to want to go out and flaunt them which could possibly lead to us straying from the "nest"? Does this make us realize how much our partners really do love us when they see those horrible "once upon a time" breasts and still tell us we're beautiful? One could even go as far as to say that our children are now the extension of our womanhood - our voluptuous breasts are no longer needed to tell a story...
I dunno. But I wish I had them back, and so does Maisy.
For my little girl, anything can be a boob. A toy car, a key chain, and most realistically, a ball. Yesterday though, she epitomized boob cuteness as I was waiting for her to fall asleep at nap time.
"Boobie people! Boobie People!" I heard her wailing from her crib.
After a few minutes, I headed in to find a Fisher Price Little Person on the floor beside her bed. I handed it to Maisy. The tears were instantly gone, and the Little Person was stuffed into her shirt, right beside another Little Person who was already there. Ahhh. There ya go.
Maisy smiled up at me. "Boobie people!" she happily proclaimed. I helped her lay down and snuggle into her blanket. How happy and relieved she was to have both of her "boobie people" there with her, on her chest.
Was I a bit jealous? Maybe. In that sweet moment, I saw my daughter smile with satisfaction and peace. Everything felt so right. As I said "Night Night" and crept out of her room, I glanced down at my chest. There was nothing there. I wanted some Boobie People too. What would it be like to have my boobs back? To really appreciate them this time 'round?
You can't blame a gal for wondering, can you?