Like pretty much every woman I know, I have had a very up and down relationship with my breasts. Currently I think they are amazing and can do magical things.
I remember when I was young wanting to have breasts. My friend and I used to do the "I must, I must, I must increase my bust" exercises, to no avail. When we started 6th grade, one of the girls had grown a pair, a substantial pair, over the summer and I was jealous as was pretty much every girl in our class. (Years later, there was a rumour that she was stuffing, I have no idea if this was true or not, but when I heard it I felt a little satisfied)
When the breasts first arrived they were sad. I remember at first being so proud of my little buds and the training bra that encased them. But they stayed buds for a long time, and I wasn't so proud of them, I wanted real breasts, big ones. Throughout my teens I was tiny and a jock and the breasts, well they were pretty small, one of the things I was teased about was being flat as a board, I wasn't really that flat, just not substantial. What I did have was perfect, really good shape, round, and close together, I didn't have to wear a bra all the time, and I didn't have any problems while playing sports, however I did not appreciate them.
After University I gained some weight and gained some boobs. They were still perky and now that there was some mass to them I had cleavage, big time cleavage even though my breasts weren't huge, they were just close together and up.
This is when I started to understand the magic that I had attached to my chest. Men loved them. There were times at work when I realized that men would stand behind me at my desk so that they could get a good view. (I was really good at my job so I was never worried about the breasts giving me credit when my brain deserved it) Now I did realize that the men who were only interested in the breasts, were not necessarily good for me, but sometimes they could be fun for me. My breasts actually made a guy go from being an ass man to a breast man.
Then I became pregnant. My breasts became very tender during my first pregnancy. This was the first time that they turned against me.
Then I had a baby, and the baby nursed. Amazing! For the first 6 months of BBJ1's life, my breasts provided all of his sustenance. My breasts fed him, soothed him, put him to bed, fixed booboo's, gave him immunity, and they took care of him. Now I must say that spending hours on end with a baby attached to my breast wasn't always the most fun, but still amazing.
When I was pregnant with BBJ2, they turned on me again. BBJ1 was still nursing and it was painful, I had to ban him from the left breast because it hurt so much.
BBJ2 arrived and again the baby nursed. Amazingly I was able to nurse both my children, I tried tandem nursing and it didn't work for me and very quickly BBJ1 was moved to nursing only before sleeping. Still pretty incredible that my breasts were able to provide sustenance for my baby while still being able to provide a sleep-aid to my toddler. Currently only BBJ2 is nursing, and honestly it is a bit of a relief to have only the one. BBJ1 weaned himself off slowly with no issues.
For me one of the best things about breast-feeding is when my babies were sick. At about 1 year, BBJ1 had croup, we were in emergency trying to get an oxygen mask over his face and the only thing that calmed him and let us get the mist in him was that he was nursing. I was reminded of that this week as BBJ2 has been sick, he hasn't eaten much, nursing lots (to the detriment of my mental health) and the nursing has calmed him and helped him.
After 2 pregnancies and nursing 2 babies, I admire my breasts and I like them. They are still fairly perky, they are still in the right place, and they have magic in them.
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