Duffed – Boobs
Things about boobs that had never occurred to me before I embarked on this little pregnancy adventure…
No matter how big your boobs are under normal circumstances, pregnancy will make them much bigger. You will be able to cut the cups out and wear them on your head in cold weather with no difficulty whatsoever. In fact, stitch on a nicely colour co-ordinated pom-pom and it’ll look like someone brought it back as a gift for you from a nice ski-ing jaunt in Val d’Isere. You’ll also find that the sizing variations mean that, from the beginning to end of your pregnancy, you’ll be able to kit out the entire family, including the one person everyone secretly calls “Football heed”. Or at least you would do if everything didn’t come in white, greige and black. I know that most of the time, all one cares about is that the damn things are tamed, but pretty and not the cost of a Bentley would be good.
If you felt mildly discomfited by the people who would stare at your breasts before this takes place, now you are permanently sober and at times, a touch “feisty”, wearing the cardboard box that your fridge came in or, if you feeling a little more bohemian, a yurt, has never been more appealing. As does wearing a t-shirt that says “Oi! I’ve got a ****ing face! Look at that! Tw*t!”
They cease to be “Fun” bags and become slightly itchy “Ouch” bags. In fact, should you ever have been curious about how you get warm fleshy cannon balls into an extremely utilitarian and aesthetically unappealing elasticated hammock, now’s your chance. What previously was an inconvenience is now a trial. Lying on your front? Ha! Suddenly crossing one arm across your body without thinking? Bad idea. very, very, bad idea. Sleeping free range? Not a cat in hell’s chance. You will now own bras for sleeping, waking, nursing and sport. And several other sets of circumstances that currently elude me.
You are permanently pointy as though you’ve been standing the chiller isle of Tesco’s for a bit too long.
Likelihood of being defeated by gravity and falling flat on your face due to sheer weight of the darn things increases by the power of ten. Coupled with general normal levels of clumsiness and yes, it’s fair to say, I’m going to spend the following months rocking on my front like a tortoise that’s been rolled or in a heap after executing a perfect commando roll to prevent injuring bump.
The sheer bewildering range of things, products and advice relating to sucking out and manual or electrical extraction of, mopping up of excess, general containment and control of all things breasty and milky.