The MisEducation of a Young Woman

I was initiated into womanhood at the ripe old age of 11.  I did not know much.  Before this blessed (bloody?) event, I once found a used sanitary pad and brought it to my mother.  Embarrassed, she briefly explained what it was and that was that.  The sex ed delivered by my Catholic school briefly explained the mechanics of sex and then quickly moved on to aging and money management as part of the Family Life series.  No one bothered to explain the average length of a cycle or that my period would be somewhat predictable.  Afraid I was at the mercy of Mother Nature, I took to wearing a pad non-stop for months.  I think it was my older sister who set me straight on that one.

There were many missteps along the way as I was left to fend for myself--proper way to use a tampon comes to mind.  There was no Red Tent for me to learn, to understand, or ask questions.   Fast forward to my late teen and early adult years and there was so much I still did not know.  Monty Python's Meaning of Life proved surprisingly informative.  Really though, the cruelest part of my womanhood journey was everything no one tells you about what happens when you actually want to get pregnant or what really happens after the baby.

1.  No one explains how a woman's fertility actually works.  Pregnancy does not magically happen if you just have lots of sex.

2.  Morning sickness can last the whole 9 months.  You won't necessarily glow.  You may honestly hate being pregnant.

3.  Your epidural may not totally work.  Two out of three times mine failed to do the job and the third, who knows because it didn't have time to take effect before he was out.

4.  You will need to invest in adult diapers for awhile after the birth.  That was a huge shock after the first baby.

5.  You will need to wear a nursing bra and nursing pads.  If you just wear a shirt, you will be drenched very quickly. 

6.  Love may not be instant, but hopefully you will experience a strong case of like.

7.  Nursing will be insanely hard to learn how to do and you just may break a sweat if you have to do it in front of anyone.

8.  Finally, your body is forever changed.  More importantly, your boobs are ruined.

It is number 8 that inspired this post.  To see me now, no one would believe I used to be kind of a big girl.  Having babies proved to be my magic elixir for weight loss (not complaining. just enjoying it while it lasts).  When I was a teenager, I never understood when women in their late 20s and earlier 30s would comment bitterly about my perky teen breasts.  Intellectually, I knew that boobs got saggier as you aged.  But NO ONE TOLD ME THE REAL TRUTH!!!!  No one.  Where was my red tent when I needed them most?  How could no one prepare me?

Pre-babies I was a happy full voluptuous 36C.  Shortly after the birth of baby number 3, I was a 32G.  I joked about feeling like a porn star.  I looked comical.  These days I'm too scared to go buy a new bra.  My youthful bosom has been replaced by two shriveled pancakes with nipples.  I can't even say two masses because that would imply some sort of cleavage.  Why did no one prepare me?

I can deal with the fact that some of the skin on my belly is stretched out and hangs, that I will never have a flat stomach.  Totally fine. I'm surprisingly not too self-conscious about it.  The nose I hated when I was 13 doesn't bother me at all.   Yet, somehow the loss of my breasts has shaken me to the core.  I did not realize how much of my femininity was tied to my chest.

It's not about society or the media telling me what I should look like after having babies.  Even society acknowledges that your body changes.  I just can't help but feel there was this huge lie by omission.  I loved nursing my babies.  I even enjoyed giving birth two of the three times.    My identity changed when I became a mother, yet I was fully unprepared to lose my identity as a woman.

Every day I feel longing, remorse, and slight desperation, when I look in the mirror at myself in a state of undress.  I am reminded of a classic episode of Punky Brewster where the girls share ways of increasing their chest size from eating cheetos--"air?" Margot tried to get the point across, to chanting "I must, I must, I must increase my bust" while using a chest exercising device.  Oh, if only Margot's advice worked......

At this point, I don't think I could justify the cost of a breast lift and I don't feel comfortable getting implants. I'm going to work on not being a bitter middle aged woman who turns green with envy whenever I see a younger woman with perky boobs. My breasts' future are unclear, but I do know this.   I will do right by my daughter.  I will share with her, without embarrassment, how her body works. I will not entrust her sexual education to British sketch comedy.  I will surround her with strong women.  I will set up our play tent if she wants me to, but I don't think I can let her just lay around for a week and wait on her when she is on her period.  That does seem a bit extreme.