To my dear breasts (I)

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Traducción realizada por Trece Tra Duce del artículo original “A  mis queridas tetas (I parte)”

I´ve wanted to dedicate an article to my breasts for a while now.

That´s right, to my own breasts.

Not to breasts in general (that´s what the blog´s name is there for), not to every woman´s breasts, whether lactating or not, but to my own.

My relationship with them, and how this has developed over time, is odd. I´ve never gone topless, nor have I been one of those women to show a lot of cleavage. Before I became a mother, only my doctor, my housemates before I got married, then my husband, had seen my breasts…

I remember trying to be discreet during my oldest son´s first feeds (can you believe it???). However, my son could never stand to be covered, and I started to realise that it didn´t make me feel uncomfortable at all to spontaneously breastfeed him anywhere. If anything, I sometimes felt that people around me, due to their lack of habit, didn´t know what to do when I was breastfeeding Iker. Maybe they would suggest I went somewhere a bit further away, or they would get far away themselves. Then, as if it were the most natural thing, I gradually started to see my breasts for what they really were, and so did those around me, I believe.

I got to the point where I wouldn´t look at my lactating breast as something erotic. So much so, that many a time I would take my own breast out in the middle of a breastfeeding workshop, in order to provide a live demonstration about the differences between a good latch and a bad one. I must admit that parents have sometimes looked puzzled or surprised when they look at me, but I think it might be due to naturalness of it, rather than the act itself.

I don´t tend to get odd looks when I breastfeed my children, quite the opposite. Almost every time I´ll get knowing smiles and comments such as: “How good!” Every now and then, I´ll get confessions of a mother or a grandmother, about their too short or too long breastfeeding periods (according to them). And while we´re at it, another mother´s furtive look in which one can sense the sadness about what was not achieved. As per those other kinds of looks, the lascivious ones, I actually get very few. Maybe the odd granddad, whose day we make, when we hold our breastfeeding group meetings in the park if there are no premises available… and that´s about it.

We have actually discussed many a time how seeing breasts as something erotic is a characteristic feature of our society, but not of all societies. In other cultures breasts don´t perform that function, and I have always wondered what influenced ours to be different. Why do some men get turned on by women´s necks or feet, whilst others get turned on by their breasts. It might the fact that we cover them, or that we are usually not breastfed for long, I don´t know. I guess there is no end of aspects that have a bearing on it.

Either way, we carry that connotation around with us, and it´s hard not to allow their size, shape, or inclination affect our self-esteem… it´s really hard.

As happy and reconciled as you might be with your body, and as comfortable in your own skin as you might feel, when you see that your breasts look more like those of the women in the National Geographic documentaries than those of the women you see in the media around you… then you have to do some self-persuasion mind exercise about the advantages of having saggy breasts.

For there are some.

It´s what I call the Universal Compensation Law.

If your breasts are firm, and let´s say you breastfeed with a baby carrier on, you´ll have to unfasten o readjust it so that the baby´s mouth can reach your nipple. If your breasts are more flexible (what a nice euphemism ), you won´t have to do so, since your breast will get where it needs to:

And not just with a baby carrier on…notice how practical they are when you travel by car…

Miss Firm Breasts won´t ever be able to do this without unfastening her seatbelt:-P

Not to mention that more flexible breasts usually have less problems with breastfeeding during the first days. It´s a lot easier to take in a good chunk of areola with a breast that is flexible that with one that is not. That might be the reason why hardly any non-western women wear a bra ,-). And perhaps that is also the reason why we have so many problems with cracks and engorgements… maybe as well as more information about breastfeeding, we´d need less bras…

The thing is I had always lovingly called my breasts: churritetas (saggybreasts)

Tetas (breasts) is obvious why, whilst churri (saggy) comes from churro (mess), or from chuchurrías (sagging), which is the colloquial way in which we use that adjective (which does exist, believe it or not). Its definition according to RAE (Royal Academy of Spanish Language):

chuchurrido, chuchurrida. (sagging m., f.)

1. adj. colloq. Withered, faded, parched.

Now when I read that definition I see how unfair I have been and am with them.

My breasts might be somehow withered and faded after having lost their youthfulness. (Actually, by way of a digression I will clarify that this is not due to breastfeeding, in fact, I think they were already saggy when I was 28. It is rather the fact that breasts struggle when you put on 60 pounds, then lose 90, then put on 40, then lose 60, which is what happens to me when I have children ). Nevertheless, they are PERFECT.

So my sagging breasts deserve not 1, but 2 exclusive posts because of how perfect they are.

In the Second Part of this article I will tell you why my previously called churritetas are so perfect for me. Don´t miss out because I will touch on some subject still considered taboo.

But until it´s published, tell me:

What about yourselves… are you happy with your breasts?

Traducción realizada por Trece Tra Duce del artículo original ”A a mis queridas tetas (I parte)”