Dear Boobs,

As a child I swore up and down you would not become

What I saw hanging at the waist of my mother,

To the hip of my grandmother.

 

They say that babies do not change you

Make you fall or sag- but that is only true

For tiny titties and not true for babushkas like you.

 

For when one begins before motherhood as a Double D

The very first added inch of girth and stretch

The very first added ounce of milk storage capacity

Is a tipping point from which

You will never return.

 

So I do understand, and it was no surprise what happened.

 

Progesterone and Prolactin’s pregnancy tease of perkiness

Taut like the Octomom’s lips

Sustained through the big birth day and beyond

But eventually you relaxed into motherhood

And to Prolactin’s Deluge

Somewhere around two months in

And the three of us slipped over the precipice.

 

I was too tired to notice at the time

But I wanted to have this word with you now.

 

Because when the ground sucked you down

I became… Earth Mother.

I want to say against my will

But I was not stupid to genetics or gravity.

And I did not choose my lot

But I did choose to provoke it

With that fateful injection.

 

Of sperm costlier than I could have ever imagined

The cost of my health

Having puked so much I needed months on IV to live

Costing 2 years of sleep.

And of course, the cost of –

The loss of

Collagen and elastin.

 

And I want to love you like some women learn

To love their thighs

All feminist righteousness.

But in all honesty I know I will not

Be able to love you like that.

 

Instead I will love you like

My people learn to love our mothers

Imperfectly, embarrassed with resentment and

Struggle, denial, and shame and humor.

 

So I taught my daughter to sing to me

What I teased my mother with as I grew up:

 

Do your boobs hang low

Do they wabble to and fro?

Can you tie ‘em in a knot?

Can you tie ‘em in a bow?

Can you throw them over your shoulder

Like a continental soldier?

Do your boobs hang low?

 

And I totally let go

I let go of you, tits.

You can nurse this child

For 6 years for all I care

Until you reach my knees

What’s a few more inches

When we have come this far?

 

-Moorea Malatt

 

Note: We only nursed for 3 years 😉

 

http://www.SavvyParentingSupport.com

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