The girls were at their peak of disparity by the time I fully weaned Kendall, looking very much like fried eggs and everything like I was afraid they would become. I was happy to see over the summer that they started to get a little mass back in them, a little more fluff. I was hopeful they would continue to….uh… puff back up as time went by, but I think it’s safe to say we’ve reached a stand still. They may not resemble fried eggs so much anymore, but they aren’t the fun bags they used to be either. They are smaller and… shiftier (?) than they were in their glory days. It’s kind of like they just exploded, got really fat, did a lot of yo yo dieting, and then had gastric bypass. The loose skin, the stretchmarks… it’s all very “Trash Can of Skin”-ish.

I saw a commercial today for a “Bra Makeover” at a nearby mall. I think I shall save up and seek out their assistance. Not a single bra of mine fits correctly, and by correctly I mean not a single bra I own works miracles and defies gravity. This commercial looked like it had some that might do just that… for a price.  It’s probably one of those places that will have no bras under $150, but that’s only a fraction of the price of a boob job, so that’s a steal, no? Not that I’m against boob jobs. I just don’t see the point until the baby factory is officially shut down for eternity.  And when that day comes, hopefully not too far in the future, I will get something done. Oh, yes, I will.

I am actually really quite interested in this procedure I heard about in a radio news program last week. I don’t know why it has taken plastic surgeons this long to perfect such a technique. Seems pretty obvious to me that this is a BRILLIANT solution, and had I gone to school to be a plastic surgeon this would have been my Capstone project, my thesis… or whatever. They take fat from your belly and/or thighs and… GET THIS… they fill your boobs up with it. Wham, BAM, thank you surgeon! You get a boob job and a flatter stomach all at the same time. It’s genius.

Really, the point of this post is the old gals ain’t what they used to be, I’m sorry to report. And even though I saw this coming two years ago, I’m still saddened by it. I’m still mourning their loss.

::pours a 40 out for my once awesome rack::

Kendall is 18 months and 3 days old (Oh, and at his 18 month appointment today, he showed off his awesome new trick – bashing his head against the wall super hard on purpose. Awesome. Scared the shit out of the nurse.)

One of many failed attempts at a picture for the cards

Christmas list 2 years ago when I was happily child free, fetus free, and not even a touch of the Baby Rabies:

1. High heel, pointy toed, knee high boots
2. Gift card to Sephora for lots of Smashbox makeup – specifically really cool eyeshadows with sparkles and brow highlighters
3.  Fun funky jewelry – chunky necklaces, long dangly earrings
4.  Something silky from Victoria’s Secret
5.  A cute wraparound top that perfectly fit my just the right size and perky bosom.

Christmas list last  year when I was 5 months pregnant, bloated and had cankles, but still had no actual child to influence my decisions:

1.  Ballet slipper inspired shoes (fashionable yet comfy with room for sausage toes)
2.  Gift card to Sephora for lotions and potions because surely Sephora would have something that prevents stretchmarks
3.  A ring big enough to fit on my Shrek fingers.
4. Underwear from Victoria’s Secret that actually cover both ass cheeks because pregnancy is already uncomfortable enough with out a V-string stuck up your crack
5. Maternity shirts that somehow managed to fit my exploding bosom without making me look like a circus tent

Christmas list this year:

1. New running shoes so that I may a) chase my increasingly mobile child around and b) be prepared for the miles I will have to start running to keep the weight off once this kid weans.
2.  Gift card to Sephora so that I may buy some pressed powder foundation and concealer for these dark circles that have suddenly appeared under my eyes, which most days is about the only thing I have time to put on.  I would also love to get myself a Chi flatiron in hopes of making this mommy cut look a little more trendy and a little less frumpy.
3. A nursing necklace with Kendall’s name and birth date engraved on it.  I get to be sentimental, while he has something to distract him from beating the shit out of me while he eats.  It’s a win, win really.
4. Bras and underwear from Victoria’s Secret that fit this completely different shaped body I’m left with.  I don’t understand… are the mediums now too big on me, or is it just that what little ass I had has now migrated to my belly?  And I never thought 36D boobs would need a push up bra.  Damn you gravity!
5. Shirts that fit over my milk factory bosom and still manage to be long enough to not show off the stretchmarks when I lift my arms.  Being back to your pre-pregnancy weight or less does NOT mean you will be back into your pre-pregnancy clothes, ladies.

Kendall is almost 7 months and 3 weeks old, I think.

If I would let him, Kendall would sleep all night with my nipple comfortably (for him… not me) resting in his mouth against his gums.  It is the only way I can get him to nod off.  Then my attempts to do the old fake nipple switcheroo with many different brands of pacifiers end up resulting in a pissed off, wide awake, STILL uncomfortable baby.  Poor little guy : (  Of course, I have the whole aresenal of soothing agents and have tried them all.  I have the teething tablets, baby Motrin, frozen teethers, vibrating teethers, soft teethers, hard teethers, and, let us not forget, the farking teething necklace (which I have no idea if the thing actually works because I just can’t bring myself to leave a necklace on a sleeping infant).

Anyway, now I’m exhausted.  Did I mention that already?  Yeah… I’m exhausted.  I can’t even concentrate on typing right now.  I must get to sleep.  I’m sure  he will be awake as soon as the Motrin wears off.  Must. get. some. sleep.

I’m going to guess that Kendall is approaching the six month mark sometime in the not very distant future… will check calendar in the morning to confirm.

So here’s what happens every time I go outside now.  It doesn’t matter how warmly I dress, as soon as that cold wind hits any part of my body my nipps do what they usually do when they get cold – except it HURTS LIKE HELL.  It’s like they are on fire!  Of course my natural reaction is to grab my boobs over my coat, I guess in hopes that I can warm them.  Yeah….NOT a good idea.  The pressure makes it even worse.  They don’t even go away when I go inside for at least a good 10 minutes.  The outlet mall yesterday was torture.  Just when I would warm up enough in a store to not feel I wanted to slice them off (sorry baby, you can’t breastfeed because mommy self mutilated herself in a moment of raging pain) I would walk back outside and it would start all over again.

That’s enough to make a girl want to stay inside all winter.

15 weeks 2 days