One of my oldest girlfriends came to visit me this weekend. There is something so sweet about visiting with a friend. The kind you laugh and cry with the kind that you can tell anything, in fact my husband and I have an understanding that I will most likely tell this friend everything, he’s come to accept it.
So there were a couple reasons why this visit was nice. First of all because of our new occasional bottle method my husband stayed home and watched Hunter so I was able to spend the afternoon out and about with a normal sized purse which was so nice (although by the end of the evening I was wondering if my son was missing me, because I was certainly missing him). Secondly I finally bought a couple of new bras to replace my second set (I had long ago grown out of the first set which were bigger then my originals) So here I am trying to buy some new bras, I have to go to the maternity store because Victoria’s Secret doesn’t sell nursing bras (apparently nursing mother’s don’t need to feel sexy) and the one style of bra at the maternity store which is sort of cute doesn’t come in the size I need (I guess if your boobs are huge you also don’t need cute bras that make you feel pretty). So after trying on several different styles and sizes I buy two plane nude colored size E. That’s right I said E, and there’s not a lot of growing room either, and as far as I could tell E was the biggest they carried what happens if they get bigger!!!! How big can they get?! I’ll have to start using parachutes to hold these babies in.
After that traumatic experience my friend and I decided to get some dinner. We eat and have a really nice time, after I call home to make sure that the babies all right. Then after dinner we stop at a couple of other places and head home. We walk in the house and my friend says to me “where are your bras?” Crap, I left them at the restaurant!! Now if you’ve been following my blogs you’ll remember how I forgot the coupon, locked the keys in the house and who knows how many other my-brain-is-shot type things. I call up the restaurant and the guy I’m talking to is asking me all kinds of things, “what kind of package? What store was it from again?” I didn’t feel like telling him that it was giant bras of the kind that would be too big for Pamela Anderson. So back into the wintry night we go, to the restaurant where everyone keeps asking me when I’m due because I’m there to pick up a bag from the maternity store, I finally start making up a date, since I get sick of telling perfect strangers that I’m not actually pregnant anymore just my boobs are out of control.
I asked another mom if they would shrink back down to their original size once I was done breast feeding. She said they would but probably not back to their original shape. I was pretty sad about that at first, since my breasts were the one thing on my body that I was happy with pre-baby, but now I’ll just be happy to fit into a normal sized shirt again.