I couldn't wait to finish breast feeding. There I said it. Get all the horrified gasps out now - I'll wait. I know to bad mouth breast feeding is like saying that you eat kittens. I don't. Eat kittens, I mean. But I didn't like breast feeding.
I enjoyed breast feeding much more with Tim 9 years ago. Cameron, however, was a nightmare and I couldn't wait to be done. The whole bonding experience is great - but when you want to scream every time, it's not so enjoyable. Don't get me wrong, I wish I enjoyed it and could have raved about the wonderful experience. But Cameron's idea of feeding half the time meant squirming, biting down, yanking, screaming....not a calm bonding experience. But I stuck it out for six months because I know that breast milk is the best for babies. But the teeth came - and I WAS DONE!
And now the only thing I miss about it is my boobs.
I am very serious about that, just ask my husband! I raved about those girls everyday from the minute I got pregnant - they were sore and throbbing but BIG! I would look down and say "Well, hello!" (Don't pretend that you've never talked to your boobs...) And I even had this thing called cleavage. What is that?!
Now that I am done breastfeeding I watched them shrink back to their almost non-existent form. To make boob matters worse; I have started running again. I've made friends with the treadmill once again, in a last-ditch attempt to lose this freakin baby weight that has decided to move in and take over. It's like it came in with bags fully packed and got sick of living out of the suitcase. I think it might have taken over my closet.
So, I am running and the scale hasn't really begun to budge. (It might be the chips that I think I owe myself on the Friday nights after a week of eating healthy....I'm not sure. But maybe?) But you know what has budged?
Yes. Wonderful. The only fat that I want to stay on my body is the fastest to leave. Do you think some of my butt could say "Hey, there's enough of us here - I'll catch ya later."? Nope. The butt jiggle likes to overstay his welcome, apparently. The curse of the pear shape.
Thanks god my husband is not a boob man.
And so I am left to bid the boobs a farewell. Goodbye ladies. It was fun while it lasted. Come back anytime. Please?