For the first time since I got them, my breasts actually look… small. Depending on how I stand or what I wear, the belly does occasionally stick out farther than the boobs. I knew this would happen one of these days. I guess it’s nice that it took over six months before it did. Because that was the part I really, really wasn’t looking forward to at all.
I’m okay with getting bigger, and truly, I’m surprised that the number on the scale has only gone up by ten at this point. I expected my boobs to change. All the books say that they swell up, get sore or strange in some other way. A lot of women discuss the dramatic cup-size increase, something that is often the first clue that the stick might show that thin blue line when they pee on it. But I suppose that my boobs have just been waiting for this the whole time, anyway. Because they didn’t change at all. I had been waiting for their transformation several months ago, actually, because I have been in need of a new bra. The bra shopping is still on hold, however, because I know that even if it doesn’t happen until I start the milk production, they are definitely going to change. And I spend good money on bras. I wouldn’t want to buy a new one that I won’t ever get to wear.
But I digress. The other thing that the books told me about my body was that it wouldn’t just grow in the belly. That in addition to the boob inflation, I could also expect wobble arms, thunder thighs (like any woman needs more thunder in her thighs), and cankles to rear their uncomfortable heads. The books try to assure you that it is normal for your body to feel like it belongs to someone else. To feel awkward and clumsy, even early on. Those ten pounds I mentioned? Yeah, they pretty much seem to have gone right to the belly. Maybe I’ve gotten a bit of an extra layer of padding elsewhere, but my shoes still fit, my rings are still loose, and the only place that the pants have been pulling is right at that growing waistline.
The books also say burping will happen at random. Well, I don’t burp. Instead, I hiccup. I hiccup loud and sometimes quite violently. But only once. Like a burp, it releases pressure. But it’s completely different and strange, and I haven’t really met anyone else whose body engages in this particular type of regular adjustment, with the exception of certain individuals that have a chromosome or two in common with me. But I digress again.
I basically started writing this because I am really, really not used to looking in the mirror and seeing a chest that doesn’t go, HELLO! Instead, there is this other roundness hogging the spotlight. I can’t help my eyes from going there. James can’t help his eyes from going there. I’m just not used to that. And the funny part is, I didn’t even realize how much I was used to eyes on my chest area before.