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Where Did My Boobs Go?

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I was laying on my back in bed one morning having a leisurely stretch before the rigors of my day commenced. I stretched my arms way above my head and then as I brought them back down I jolted, fully awake with fright. Where had my boobs gone?


I lay for a minute making sure I had not just been dreaming, a slow brush with my arm over my chest, no still not there. Had I undergone surgery during the last few days and just not remembered? No. Then the panic hit. 


I am approaching 40, have had 2 children, I knew they didn’t look or sit like they used to, but I had never heard of them just disappearing of their own accord. Had they been so upset with how they had started to look that they just took off? Did they run away to be firm and high again on the body of a twenty-something goddess?


I thought back to a time when I remembered them clearly, in all their glory, perched proudly on my chest, ready to make tops look amazing and cause some men to do a double take. Then, when I had laid down they just seemed to stay where they were, in their rightful spots high and proud on my chest.


Could my boobs have taken on a life of their own and decided to flee? Was I not using them to their full potential any more? Had they become nothing more than a feeding tool for my children, (not to successfully) or the occasional plaything for my husband? 


Were they unhappy with only the rare outing at special occasions? Let’s face it, without a bra that had been designed by NASA and a team of engineers, not to mention the PERFECT dress or top, they were no longer as perky or as attention grabbing as they had once been. 


As I lay and ponder this strange occurrence on what had started as a typical morning my fear turned to dread. 


I started to sit up, wait, what’s that, they’re back. Hang on. How did that happen? Where had they been? I was in desperate need of a holiday so I definitely wasn’t happy with my boobs going on one without me. I lay down again, gone! What’s going on? Oh no! 


I look to the left then to the right, and there they were. Both boobs, intact, securely nestled. “Where were they?” I hear you ask.


Under my arms. Yes that’s right! When I lay on my back I was now flat chested but I had lumps at the edge of my armpits. 


Does anyone warn of this? Did anyone ever let me know that this could happen to me? When I was 20 and parading around in figure hugging, breast enhancing tops were some women looking and thinking, “Just wait, one day they will be under your arms?” God I hope not.


Before I get up to start my day I make a pact. A pact to my boobs. I promise them that I will no longer take them for granted, I will try to make them look as good as they can every day. I will never lose them again. I do try for the impossible, by asking them if in return they could try and stay where they are meant to be and help me just a little bit!


I feel the need to let others know about this strange occurrence, almost as a community service announcement. If this message can help just one woman not go through the fear I experienced it will be well worth it.


 


 

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