I Am Bodacious: Chapter 1

You start out happy that you have no hips or boobs. All of a sudden you get them, and it feels sloppy. Then just when you start liking them, they start drooping.
~ Cindy Crawford

So.

Time for me to pony up – I’m the one who charged my girlies to spill on “the one thing I love about my body” after all. Need to put my mouth where my money is. Or something.

And after some thought – I have nice eyes, damn good skin and FABULOUS, GLORIOUS hair – I’ve decided that the one thing I really love about my body is…

My boobs. Tits. Breasts.

So many names, so many attributes

I’m a curvy girl – always have been, always will be. To paraphrase the frazzled effeminate hotel desk clerk in This Is Spinal Tap -- I’m just as God made me, y’all. I’m *still* working like a madwoman to make myself curvy and healthy and I’d be very happy to get those curves down to a lovely shape.

My one fear is that I’m going to lose my rack with all my get-healthy energy. So far, so good, though. Doing lots of pec exercises to keep things bouncing yet behaving.

We must we must we must increase our bust.

But make no mistake – I am not a woman who defines herself by her chest.

I just happen to like what’s there.

And yes – they’re real. And, from what I’ve been told, they are spectacular.

Cultivate your curves--they may be dangerous but they won't be avoided.
~ Mae West

I received my best confirmation on the quality of my bodaciousness one evening spent with a gal pal dancing and cavorting at a gay club here in town. My décolletage was recognized, fawned over and got a little action even (grope!). The boys loved my girls. There you are.

I could wax poetical here about how the breasts are a vehicle for nutrition and sustenance for the young and talk about how fulfilling breast feeding was for me. But I can’t – because Will was so early my body never reacted the way a normal post-partum body does and despite my very best efforts, I couldn't adequately do the breast feeding thing. Although I do have a great story about working with the lactation specialist at the hospital and having my breast milk shoot across the room and spray a doctor who was observing. I think we were asked to step out of the NICU after that, because our giggles were more than a little disruptive.

Anyhoo.

My breasts, for me, define my physicality as a chick. They make me feel feminine and confident all at the same time. Sometimes they command attention. Sometimes they are just there to give me a boost (damn underwire). And sometimes they’re just a counterbalance for my uber-cerebral self.

So yeah. My boobs are one thing I love about my body. Curvy rules, y’all.

And like Shania says – man, I feel like a woman when we’re in synch.