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.
Rather than a tale of sagging breasts, this is a story of how my ownership of my body, including my breasts, has shifted throughout different stages of my relationships. When I was single, my breasts were mine alone. I explored New York City’s nightlife as an unattached woman and enjoyed the freedom that came with being in control of my body. However, I’m not one for casual dating, and I quickly found myself in long-term relationships for most of my adult life.
When I became serious with my now-husband, ownership of my breasts shifted. While we had an equal partnership, our committed relationship meant that my breasts were now his to touch and enjoy without needing to ask for permission. The same was true for his body, which was now mine to explore. It was an unspoken agreement in any romantic relationship. It was only when my husband expressed his possessiveness towards my breasts that I realized he truly believed they belonged to him. When we found out I was pregnant, we began discussing our parenting approach. Naturally, I planned to breastfeed, or at least attempt to. My husband supported the idea until I mentioned that my breasts would be off-limits. Even though I had no prior experience with breastfeeding, I knew I didn’t want any unintentional adult nursing to take place during intimate moments.
Functionality vs. sensuality became the ultimate dilemma for us. During the months leading up to our baby’s arrival, my husband and I had to come to terms with the fact that my breasts would no longer be solely for erotic purposes. It was a struggle for me to separate the two, but I knew that breastfeeding was important for our child’s health.
Once our baby arrived, we quickly learned that breastfeeding was not as easy as it looked. There was pain and discomfort, but eventually, we got the hang of it. As our daughter became more reliant on my breasts for nourishment and comfort, my husband reluctantly surrendered his ownership. My breasts were now solely for our daughter’s use, but I couldn’t deny the comfort and joy they brought her. As previously mentioned, we eventually got the hang of breastfeeding, but not without a minor complication: our daughter had a preference for my left breast over the right. As a result, the left one produced more milk and was always noticeably larger than the right one, which made me feel sorry for the neglected right one. Since new parenthood sex is already infrequent, having seriously lopsided breasts made it almost non-existent.
Breastfeeding eventually became an involuntary aspect of my life. Looking back, it’s a sensation I can no longer recall. While I was proud of my accomplishment in soothing my daughter, that feeling now seems unfamiliar, only nine months after I stopped breastfeeding her.
My breasts had become someone else’s domain for a long time. First, they were mine when I was single, but then ownership shifted to my committed partner. They served their purpose as part of a package deal that landed me in a long-term relationship. As soon as we became serious, they became his for sexual pleasure, and we shared an unspoken covenant that allowed us both access to each other’s bodies. However, things changed when we learned that I was pregnant. My husband’s ownership was threatened when we started discussing our parenting philosophy.
Although he was all for me nursing our baby, he was uncomfortable when I said my breasts were off-limits for any sexual activity. When our baby arrived, we started the difficult journey of breastfeeding, and it was a relief when we finally got the hang of it. However, our daughter preferred one breast over the other, which made them perpetually lopsided and practically non-existent during new parenthood sex.
The Bottom Line
I nursed our daughter for 11 months, during which my breasts were purely functional and off-limits to my husband. It took a while for me to switch back to seeing them as an erotic part of my body, and his access was revoked for at least a year if not a few more months. However, in the end, I realized that they had always been mine all along and that they had been a vessel for my happiness. In “The Evolution of My Boobs: A Relationship Story,” Lauren discusses how the ownership of her breasts shifted throughout different stages of her relationships.
When she was single, they belonged entirely to her, but in committed relationships, they became a shared asset. When she became pregnant, they became solely for her baby’s use, causing a conflict between functionality and sensuality. Ultimately, she realized that her breasts had always been hers, and they were a vessel for her happiness.