My Boobies, My Self

I was up all night thinking about this post. See, on A Writer's Blog yesterday, I mentioned that in college, a guy named Craig nicknamed me Cleavage my freshman year. That got me thinking about my breasts and how they defined me.

See, I didn't develop early. I got my original breasts the summer between junior and senior year in high school. It was noticeable, at least by the boys. I'll never forget the look Gerald Fisher had on his face when he saw me again that September. I'll never forget the feeling it gave me at the time, too. It was allllll good.

The two guys that lived across the hall from me my freshman year in college decided to name my breasts after themselves, Andrew and Stephen, my right breast and my left breast respectively. The guys on my floor even had a 'whose were bigger' contest between my roommate and I (she, incidentally, practically had her breasts in Kindergarten). She won, but it didn't matter, because I was pleased they even thought I was in her league. That's about when Craig started calling me Cleavage. I was flattered. Bring on the attention, I thought, bring it on. I'd waited a long time for it.

I'd been told I had really nice breasts. Round. Soft. Just the right size. More than a handful but not unmanageable. Can you believe they were analyzed so much? They were. Really quite fascinating if you stop and think about it. Men and breasts ... go figure.

My breasts were part of my identity. They were even personified for Heaven's sake.

See, I should have known Andrew would be the one acting up first! (If you knew Andrew, my right breast's namesake, you'd understand completely!)

Now? Well, the reconstruction I chose guaranteed a natural look, a natural feel. Just with scars and no nipples. You'd think it would depress me ... having spent so much time enjoying the benefits of the male obsession with breasts. But it didn't. Why? Because my friend Jeannie repositioned the whole issue for me one night. I how have Barbie breasts. Barbie breasts! What young girl would be overjoyed to grow some knockers like her beloved best-friend doll?

Barbie doesn't have nipples either you see. Her breasts are round and smooth and solid and nipple free, just like mine. I have Barbie breasts.

Anyway, I'll be damned if that thought doesn't perk me up from time to time. I might not be blond or disproportionately figured, but I have some fine new breasts.

It's a good day to reflect on that!