BOOBS!!

Or...

More Than You Ever Cared to Know About My Boobs and Why I Hate Them!!

You've been warned.

Those of you who've known me for awhile can attest that in earlier years pregnancy was fascinating to me. When I was in high school I made some abstract pregnant lady sculptures out of clay and bought the coffee table book, "Pregnant Goddesshood" which is filled with portraits of funky pregnant ladies. I always thought that I'd absolutely adore being pregnant, embrace the changes in my body that meant that I was creating a new life and bare my belly with pride.

I was so wrong!

My body image has suffered a horrendous blow through this whole stretching and growing ordeal. I have never had major self esteem issues (sure everyone feels ugly and bloated from time to time, but overall no big problems) until now. These days are complete with loads of negative feelings about my body. Recently, especially, as I have grown out of a lot of the maternity clothes that I have (GROWN OUT OF MATERNITY CLOTHES FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!) and I've been shopping for some "professional" clothes to wear for the bloated month and a half that I'll be in clinic before Sofie is born. Who knew shopping for maternity clothes could be so depressing. I am blaming the majority of the disgust that I feel when I envision myself in the mirror trying to make a decision on the lesser of the evil outfit, on my new boobs.

Boobs. In the midst of puberty and beyond, the bane of many youthful girls' existence. I've been fortunate to never really have much of a boob complex either. My boobs were (WERE!) not too small and not too big, pleasantly pink and acceptably perky. Sure, I sometimes envied the girls who could get away with sleeveless and spaghetti strapped shirts and sundresses without worrying about hiding pesky bra straps, but all in all I felt pretty decent about my set. I wish someone had told me, at the beginning of this pregnancy, to spend some quality time appreciating my boobs. I'm quite confident that they will never (NEVER!) be the same again.

These new enormous and misshapen monsters have abandoned their pink perkiness and turned dark and splotchy. They flop and sweat in ways they never knew before and I guarantee they are not pleasant to behold. I'm sure that they're the culprit in my need for increasingly large shirts, and they make tops that would otherwise be pretty darn cute look ridiculous. I'm also quite sure that added boob weight makes me appear much more swollen and whale-like than I otherwise would. And...surprise surprise, blimpiness was not so much the look I was hoping to achieve during pregnancy.

I can only imagine the changes these boobs have yet to make. Needless to say, I am NOT looking forward to experiencing them, and further I am quite depressed about the quite real possibility that I may be stuck with these horrendous boobs, or something even worse (GASP!) for the rest of my life.

This body, it is not my own. And, whoever you are out there who sneakily traded me this one... It's been lovely, but could I please have mine back now?! Pretty please?!

Hmph.