I was perusing some of my favourite ladies on WordPress this morning, and I am seriously infatuated with a few of them. I mean, intelligence, wit, sexiness and lip-smacking titties and ass… what more can one possibly want out of a morning read?
Anyhoo, I was so inspired and turned on by one tasty photo set, that I had to snap some photos of myself. I may as well share them….
I have really grown to love and adore my breasts. I used to hate them… like seriously hate them. They always invited unwanted attention, and I used to be extremely introverted.
People have always commented on them… their size mostly. When I was 11, my uncle, who actually isn’t a creep, he just didn’t know any better, made me self-conscious for the very first time of my budding breasts by merely pointing out their existence. It was a simple observation of my starting to fill out that made me aware of my body and other people’s response to it.
An old high school friend used to oggle them constantly. When we would meet for drinks, he would always let me know how much he admired them. I should have been flattered but it just made me uncomfortable because I wasn’t into him that way. And I did not agree with him that they were desirable. I thought they were saggy, lopsided, squishy and just fucking gross.
My friend’s mom, whom I had known most of my life, once reached down my shirt and grabbed my tit and shook it. She meant it affectionately, and she was a very bold personality, but still, I was like 18 and a virgin, and no one else had ever touched my tits. I felt violated… but I giggled when she did it because I didn’t know how to set boundaries with others.
I had one person tell me that she could now see that they are assymetrical… when I was pregnant… when my body was transforming into an unrecognizable stretched out mess (I looked adorable as a short preggie chick… but I felt disgusting). Yeah. Always nice to have your imperfections pointed out to you when everything makes you cry.
There are so many more instances in which I have hated my tits, but those days are thankfully long gone. They are now an errogenous zone; prior to lactating, they did not factor into my sex life. I would feel repulsed when hubs would play with them… not by him but by me… because I hated myself. But hubs had a major fetish for my breasts when they produced milk, and I loved the sensation of letting down in a sexual situation (obviously with an adult and NOT my baby… duh) as well as how excited he would get when he expressed that liquid gold from my protruding nipples. That helped me learn to love and enjoy them. That, and now taking adoring photos.
No matter what anyone else thinks, says or does pertaining to my breasts, they are mine, and I grant you the privilege of watching me love on them. Yes… the privilege. It was a long road to self-love, but it feels like I have finally arrived home.