Yup. Boobies. Breasts. Sweater meat.
I got it.
Before you're tempted to feel offended, I feel the need to offer up the fact that I've lived quite happily for 27 years with my rather boyish figure. I gave up on push-up bras some time around the age of 17. Once that snow-ball got rolling it didn't stop: bras were out the window altogether by the time I finished college. And goodness, the liberation!
So for as much as I've not really minded my rather plankish form, I have to say that my new beautiful ta-tas are not to be minded either. Here's why:
1. They jiggle, for goodness sake, and that's just fun.
2. From the side, I look like the letter B, but with legs and a head. And who doesn't like the letter B?
3. I have a cute little freckle that looks quite fetching when it's sitting atop my massive cleavage.
And after waiting for this pregnancy so long, I fully intend to throw myself into the experience with joy and hopefully only a few teensy complaints (like the terrible headaches that have become my constant companion).
So if there's ever been something to feel joyful about, I think I'm there. Two babies in my belly and I've finally reached a full B cup (yup...didn't mis-type that...not C, not D, just celebrating the B here, folks!) feels like heaven.