A Gold Watch

Warning. Maybe don't read this if you are my father/brother/boss/squeamish/don't want to read about my boobs. Otherwise, continue....(at your own risk).

Dear Girls.

What a year it has been.

Until last June you were caged, shrouded, enclosed. Indoor boobs. You were form, not function. We had our times, oh we had our times. You filled out and over too many things to remember. Lets face it, you may have, on occasion even earned me a complimentary drink. And I thank you for it. You were esteemed. You were there for me always---being smashed into a sports bra, or pouring over the top of a dress. Making me wish there were zipper down shirts instead of button down shirts. Making me feel a little better about a big ass/big hair/big thighs/big stomach. After all, proportion is important and you set the stage.

You were you. And sometimes, you were me.

And now.

Well, things aren't as they were.

You've been freed. A year ago I swore that by damn, since my child rearing hips didn't actually pass a child through them my damn child rearing breasts were going to pull their weight. And you did. I made a promise to Callan while he was in the NICU that I would do everything I could to help him get as healthy a start as possible. You, with the aid of your devoted companion, the Medella best pump, have set him off on a healhty begining. You've seen more daylight (and nightlight, and storelight and office light) in the last year than ever in your history. You've embarrassed my brothers/dad/father in law/brother in laws. And you are better because if it. Are you a little less full of yourself? Yes. Are you a little worse for the wear? Yes. You endured brutality. Horrible bras. Ugly, ugly bras. BITING! Chafing! Swelling! SAGGING!

But come on! You fed a baby! It was an amazing experience.

You turned a little 10 pound baby into a 28 pound toddler!

And now, girls...it's time to hang up your flaps. No more nursing bras for you. You can slide into a more stable home. Something without easy access panels. Something that holds its shape with or without you. You can part with the pump and rest easy. Your work is done. You can go into retirement. You've earned your gold watch. I don't know how you'll wear it, but you have certainly earned it. Thank you for not letting us down. We love you. And we pray to God that you get some elasticity back. Engineering can only do so much for us.

Love and thanks,

Joslynn