When I was in middle school, I convinced my mom to buy me a bra. Despite having absolutely no need for one, I felt out of place in the locker room surrounded by girls flaunting their new undergarments. At that time, I thought the breast fairy simply hadn’t visited me yet. Little did I know I would be waiting a long time, only to be greeted by an empty bag offering just a sprinkle of breast dust.
I am the epitome of the “barely-A” cup. Leader of the Flat Girls Society. President of the Itty-Bitty-Titty Committee. You know those supermodels who are tall and slender with flat chests? Well, I have that same flatness minus the height. Picture Marilyn Monroe’s figure with a supermodel’s bust—that’s me.
Despite my efforts to embrace body positivity, I struggled with my small breasts for many years. I often felt “less than womanly” due to my nonexistent cleavage and the challenge of finding swimsuits that fit. I resorted to wearing padded push-up bras, dreaming of a B-cup that could balance my pear-shaped body.
Looking back at my younger self, I can’t help but smile. She had no idea just how powerful her tiny breasts could be.
When I became pregnant with my first child, I relished the changes in my body. As my belly expanded, my breasts did too, filling out in a way that was completely new to me. After my daughter was born, I experienced an incredible transformation, going from a solid B to a C and even flirting with a D within days. Although that was just temporary engorgement, I eventually settled back into a comfortable B+. For the first time, I felt truly womanly.
However, it was breastfeeding that fundamentally changed my perception of my body. I had always intended to breastfeed, but I was unprepared for the profound impact it would have on my self-image. Watching my daughter latch on, I was astonished to realize that my body was producing everything she needed. I saw her gain weight and develop rolls of baby fat, all thanks to my milk.
My tiny, seemingly inconsequential breasts were performing an extraordinary miracle each day. I was in awe and gradually fell in love with my once-derided breasts.
This newfound love only deepened as my children grew. When my second daughter was nursing, my brother-in-law and his wife adopted a baby boy. They sought breast milk for him, and with plenty to spare, I was able to pump for him while still feeding my own daughter. Both were thriving and chubby, and it felt incredible to know my breasts were nourishing two babies simultaneously. Years later, they continued to provide for my third and final child. Breastfeeding became my superpower, showcasing my A-cups as a crucial force.
Even after I stopped nursing, I continued to appreciate my breasts. I’d like to think I would have learned to love them anyway, even without the experience of breastfeeding. After all, tiny breasts have their perks. They remain perky even after three kids, won’t sag since there’s not much to droop, and I don’t need underwire for support. I can comfortably sleep on my stomach and enjoy running without discomfort, even without a sports bra.
Yet, I doubt I would have recognized these advantages if I hadn’t seen the remarkable things my breasts could do. Maybe the breast fairy knew what she was doing after all.
If you’re interested in more insights on home insemination, check out our blog post on home insemination, where you can learn more about the journey to motherhood. For those looking into artificial insemination options, Make a Mom provides expert resources as well. The CDC is also an excellent source for information on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, my experience with breastfeeding transformed how I view my body, particularly my breasts. What once seemed insignificant turned into a source of strength and pride, ultimately teaching me to embrace my body as it is.