It’s probably not what you’re thinking because I’m not brave enough to go down the surgery route and under the knife. And even if I was, there are SO many other areas that I’d re-sculpt before my boobs. Anyway, I’ve always thought that young, pert boobs on an old body look kind of odd.
But due to girly problems, and (I hasten to add) absolutely NOTHING to do with more sex or need for better contraception (ewww!), my doctor has put me on the Pill. It could only happen to me – at a time when every other woman I know is coming off the Pill due to concerns about the invasiveness of pumping more hormones into the menopausal body, I find myself back on it.
For those of you women like me, who first took the Pill back in your twenties, do you remember that massive surge in breast development that accompanied the influx of oestrogen? Back then the Pill took me from a bee-sting AA to an acceptable B cup, and for many small-busted women, it wasn’t only a convenient form of contraception, but the answer to our boob prayers too.
But for those of us approaching 50, and let’s say, not quite so concerned about how our bodies project to the outside world these days, (and certainly not in need of daily contraception), a sudden growth and density spurt of breast tissue can be somewhat disconcerting and embarassing.
I’d got quite used to my innocuous, post-breastfeeding sacs. They were easy, honest boobs that had done their job and I had let them retire gracefully. Not too big to get in the way, small enough when aided by the wonders of modern bra technology to be sculpted into any damn shape and size I needed them to be.
But now my boobs are pert again; full of zest and life and some might even say that they look inviting – which frankly, is just about the last thing I need them to be.
I’d never really thought a lot about my boobs until this recent shake-up, when they suddenly developed a life of their own and lifted and filled, like those of some pubescent teenager. But now I have to.
Because my bras are all suddenly very tight and my boobs spill over the top of them. My tops and dresses have started to pull and crease in all the wrong places and my new boobs throw me off balance when I exercise and jiggle uncharacteristically when I move too quickly – I suddenly understand what ‘busty girl problems’ on Pinterest are all about.
It’s confusing, because I’d come to accept this next phase of my body now. I’d come through the grieving period for my old body and redefined mentally who I am. I was excited about being defined by what goes on inside my head, finally, rather than by what’s attached to the front of my chest.
So where do these new boobs leave me now?