The Evolution of My Boobs: A Relationship Story

My friend likened the current state of her breasts to that of balled-up wet socks — a consequence of dedicating them to the nourishment of her daughter for over a year. Like her, I too have experienced the joys and challenges of breastfeeding.

This is not your typical tale about the condition of a mother’s bosom, the sort that may prompt those who haven’t borne children to vow on the spot that they will never breastfeed any potential offspring because they cannot fathom labeling their mammaries as “droopy,” “deflated,” or “asymmetrical.” This is not just another story about a mother’s post-pregnancy breasts; rather, it’s a tale about relinquishing ownership. As I transitioned through different stages of relationships, it seemed that my breasts became everyone’s property but my own. When I was single, they belonged entirely to me. I moved to New York and spent countless evenings exploring the city’s nightlife as an unattached woman. However, I am a serial monogamist and have been in committed relationships for most of my adult life.