Stupid Boobs.

Let me tell you the history of my mammaries.

When they first decided to sprout (far too soon for my mortified 10-year-old self), the grew unevenly. Leftie was decidedly smaller than Rightie, and I suppose this caused my mom some concern. I'll never forget the day she lifted my shirt to show a close friend of hers the "problem". Hey mom? That scarred me for life, by the way. My breasts never grew evenly and I have forever been self-conscious about the size difference. Stupid boobs. Note to self: never do this to my daughter.

Because I was the sole girl with boobs in my grade six class, the boys were kind enough to sing, "Alex the camel has two humps!" as I walked by them. I died inside. I wasn't flaunting them, why were people so interested in them? Who were these fictional characters wishing for periods and breasts? I hated mine! Stupid boobs.

When I went to high school, I met a girl name L***. She of the long, long legs to match her long, long hair and eyelashes. She of the innocent blue eyes, she of the shoplifting habit and she of the absolutely, mindblowingly ginormous breasts. She too mocked me: Flat as a board, you'll never be nailed. I'd gone from large to small in the span of a couple years? I couldn't win. Stupid boobs.

By the time I was in university, I was on pretty good terms with my C cups. They were perky and round and enjoyed overall. They filled out my grunge t-shirts and second-hand sweaters well enough. 

And then I had kids.

I went from a C cup to something closer to a G within the span of a couple hours when my milk came in after my daughter was born. Over the next 26 months, the size definitely decreased by I was still left with hefty D cups by the time our nursing journey ended. And since my daughter had stopped nursing from Lefty long before she stopped with Righty, the uneven growth was even more obvious.

I am now at month 27 of nursing my son. Long ago he too gave up on Lefty, but happily snuggles into the plump right side for his nursing sessions two to three times a day. I am left with a wilted left breast that I swear is at least two sizes smaller than the right side, which I suppose it a large C now. Tiny stretch marks staked their claim along the bottoms of these breasts that have sustained two little kids and countless fantasies. They did their job, right? But I hate them. Stupid boobs.

I hate that I went through so much attaining these lumps of flesh. I hate that they're so sexualised. I hate that I have absolutely no control over them. But mostly I hate that because of them, I could die far too young from a disease I fear each and every day of my life. 

I hate my breasts because I am so unbelievably scared of breast cancer, it's nearly all-consuming. 

Being adopted, I don't have a noted history of breast cancer. But who knows? Maybe it runs in my genetic family. I don't have any lumps in my breasts. I'm not 40 yet. I don't smoke. Or drink. I try to eat well. I breastfed two kids. But all too often I read stories about women the same as me who are diagnosed with breast cancer and I am just so scared.

Over the past few months I've noticed that neglected little Lefty is a little tender under the tissue. I asked my doc about this, and he brushed it off, noting that it's likely nothing and that I'm not in a high-risk group. But still, I fear. I check for lumps almost daily, like an obsession. 

So what do I do with this fear? Well. It was just recently that my friend Dee posted this video of herself visiting VIP Breast Imaging for an ABUS scan of her breast because of a lump she found. It hit me hard.

I think I know what I have to do with my fear: conquer it. I need to push for testing, and I need to know for sure that I'm taking care of these stupid boobs for as long as I can. Thanks, Dee, for the push to get myself checked out. I'm going to treat myself to a scan for my birthday in May, I do believe. I don't want to live the rest of my life hating these stupid boobs.

Protect your breasts, friends. We don't have to live in fear.

Note: I wasn't offered anything from VIP Breast Imaging or Dee for posting this. I wasn't even asked to post. This is from my heart...which actually resides under that tender, wilted left breast I hate so much.