The Boobs

"Talk about boobs? What to talk about exactly? Boobs are boobs!" was exactly what I had in mind when I found out I was tagged by Nindya a.k.a Kappa. *Sigh* OK, since she had done such a nice post when I tagged her previously on the 10 things viral project, let's talk about boobs now!
Boobs are just boobs. They are a pair of body parts I'm not so fancy about. I got them growing on my chest pretty late compared to most of my school mates back in junior high. I remember quite clear in my mind how the boys were so into girls' boobs back then. Some of them really noticed the growth of their favorite girls' boobs. Instead of just "discussing" about the size, they were also talked about the cover.

The cover was another story. Our boobs was not fully grown to wear bras so our mothers provided us with mini-sets. The boys examined very closely who had shifted from mini-sets to bras. They were pretty knowledgeable about the brands because to simply talk about colors would not be considered cool enough.

Boobs were the main reason why the line-up procession before entering the class was such a big fuzz. The boys were pretending of so many things and move around like some mad cows just to "coincidentally" touch or rub the girls. Pity, some girls were looking forward to what in their adult years now classified in sexual harassment.

I was certainly not their favorite, not close enough to be in their list. As a matter of fact, I was not considered someone who could actually grow boobs. I was listed among the boys. The little stat-board in front of the class room would add one more boy to the actual number and deduct a girl. "He" was me.

I wore mini-sets up to my second year of high school. The loose batik shirt could not let anybody tell my sex especially with that crew-cut hairdo which announced me a G.I Jane wannabe.
Oh, I hated my boobs back then. I wished they stop growing and I could somehow trans-gender myself. Fortunate for me, the boobs listened to my wish. They did not grow more than an A-cup size. My size was a 32A, I was also 22 kgs lighter.

A shocking moment concerning my own boobs happened when I had to buy some bras during my first pregnancy. The size I had to buy was beyond my comprehension. They were huge. I could not believe my boobs were that big but my weight was no less shocking too.

To gave birth changed me a lot including to my acceptance to my boobs. To watch a baby suckling milk from my boobs was beautiful beyond believe. I learned to take care of my boobs better than before. Make sure they were clean, etc, etc. There it was, the baby showed me why should I have boobs as female. Why were they so important. Many pregnancy books wrote about that fact and tried to picture the happiness a pair of boobs could bring to the life of a mom and her baby, and to actually experience it made me think the books were not accurate.

I never imagine a pair of boobs could bring me a deep sorrow. Not because they were not big enough to attract some silly boys. Not because their insignificant size changed my sex without any surgery. It was because they did not produced enough milk when Igo was just one month old. He had to totally depend on formula when he reached 3 months old. When we decided to stop to breast-feed Ilya due to the possibility of HIV infection, I cried for weeks in the toilet every time I had to trash the milk.

Now, after three kids and a plan of not having more, the boobs are just another body parts. But this time with some significant respects. They are not the body parts that made me a female but they certainly the body parts that made me whole.

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Next task is to tag fellow bloggers, let me think................. :
Yemima, Sofia Kartika and Pico ! -- blog away fellas!