When I was a teenager I had fabulous boobs. They were large, they were perky, they were the bane of my existence. Being around five foot tall and quite petite they dominated my whole body - a feature that several of the boys at school didn't fail to notice.....much to my dismay.
What I wanted was to be inconspicuous, to put my head down a hole and wait out those mortifying and awkward teenage years. What I got was ridicule from some of the girls and points and snigger's from the pimply boys in the throes of hormone-crazed puberty.
My boosie wah-wahs were completely wasted on me. I hid them under daggy jumpers in the high heat of Summer. My shoulders were permanently slouched, I wore ghastly minimising sports bras.
Now, I look back on photos of myself at around 15 or 16 and I feel a sense of loss. I lament the diminishing of my beautiful boobies.
Gravity, three pregnancies and years of breastfeeding have sent them to boobie damnation. They are showing their age - just like the rest of me. Heading south for the Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn.
Push-up bras are now my best friends. Low cut tops and clingy shirts are everyday items in my wardrobe. The years of hiding and pretending I don't have boobies like Pammy are far behind me. Now, they're all out for everyone to see.....too bad you need a damn magnifying glass to see anything.
The days of having a fabulous decolletage may be over - it's really too bad that I didn't appreciate them when I had them - but with maturity and Motherhood has come an acceptance of who I am......tiny boosies and all.