It is a powerful thing as a young woman when you first discover the power of the boob. Once they've really grown in and rounded themselves out they become part of the arsenal of sexuality that a woman learns to use or not use as she sees fit. It is fairly indisputable, the power of the breast - just ask women like Pamela Anderson and Carmen Electra who wouldn't even have careers were it not for the enhancements of brave and talented surgeons. I've been lucky in the boob department - I've always had nice breasts, I think, a nice handful, good shape, relatively unscarred...and I have enjoyed their usage throughout my life. But now, alas, the boobs have taken on a whole new dimension.
Of course, those that have followed my career know that my breasts were, for good and bad, part of public domain long before they became Property of Nahanni. But now, they really feel as though they belong to someone else, and I must admit, I'm starting to want them back. I still struggle with the division between the sexuality of my breasts and the utility of them which has taken over my life for the last year. Sometimes I feel like they enter a room before I do - and not necessarily in that powerful 'I'm a young sexual being hear me roar' kind of way. I think my life has become all about the boob - a territory that has been taken over by a tiny and now quite demanding interloper - and I'm trying to wrest back power from the rebels.
Beyond all the early struggles with mastitis and the latch and all that came with it, I have enjoyed nurturing my daughter, nourishing her with these amazing little milk bars. But now she is at the stage where she jams her drool coated chin into my chest at the fist inklings of thirst - no matter where we are. I will admit that this is somewhat better than my friend whose daughter (I think, adorably) repeats 'Boobie! Boobie!' until she gets what she wants, but I can see that too on the horizon with my smart little one and I don't know how much longer I want to keep this up.
I'm also struggling in a little battle of wills that Nahanni and I are having. Most babies have a preferred side and Nahanni is no different. The problem is that she is now refusing to nurse from the other side and it can turn ugly at times, with her crying and struggling against me, and me laughing because it's really so very comical at the same time. She pulls back from the offending side, makes the ASL sign for 'more' repeatedly and then thrusts her little pointy finger into the correct breast with a sharp 'J'accuse!' sort of screech. It wouldn't be anything but hilarious except that I'm starting to fear my left side will become mutantly large while her neglected right hand sister withers into oblivion. And I have to further admit that I'm scared milkless to see what the whole terrain will look like when the milk goes. Makes a very strong case for 'extended nursing'...
Yes, I have a wonderful and loving husband who heartily (and I believe honestly) contends that I am beautiful no matter what, but I lament the passing of my powerful former boobies. Now that they have become mommy-boobs, is there any going back? Will I ever be able to regain the territory lost to pointing fingers and little sharp teeth?
I suppose only time will tell. As with many things post-baby, all is not as it was - although I think I'm doing pretty well for a woman in her...um, very late twenties. (Ha, I never get tired of that one...) I will soldier on, and slowly, I will pit my will against that of my tiny milk-loving dictator, oh, she of the pointing, accusatory finger and a thirst for all things mommy. I can only hope for an easy truce and a return of at least some of the property to its original owner...
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