Athletic

The other day I did something I’ve never been able to do before. I bought a bra at the Gap. I have always envied my friends (and Sarah Jessica Parker) for their exposed sexy, slim bra straps. Wispy black strings peeking out from under a shirt. Glittery little numbers showing holiday spirit (you know who you are). This is something I thought my shoulders would never experience, until now.
I’m currently a 34C. I know I won’t be this size for long (I get pumped up again tomorrow), but I couldn’t resist the sale rack and its allure of wireless bras for five dollars. This gorgeous piece of undergarment is coral colored with thin cream-colored lace straps. I tried it on last night (I am not fitting room ready yet) and my husband said, “wow, you actually look athletic”. We both had a really good laugh as that is not something I’ve heard often. Ok, not ever. I was having a real Misty May moment. I may rock some junk in the trunk, but I’m feeling stronger and looking very fit and perky up top. I guess the past three years of lifting children have helped my arms look the part too.
I miss picking up the girls and am hoping tomorrow my doctor will clear me for lifting. I’ve cheated a few times and picked up the baby (I even put her to bed tonight; she’s heavier than I remember). It feels weird and I’m trying to do it as gingerly as possible. I’ve told my mom throughout this process that I wish I had found out about the BRCA gene before I had kids. I think it would have been easier for me, emotionally, to have had my double mastectomy before I had the little ones to worry about. She has played devil’s advocate and asked me how I would have felt if I never had the opportunity to breast feed. It’s an interesting question, for which I will never have the answer.
Before I gave birth, the thought of breast feeding skeeved me out. After, I thought it was the most natural thing ever. I don’t think I would have missed it if I had never experienced it. On the other hand, I don’t like knowing that I can’t do something, anything. So in that sense, maybe I would have felt bad or guilty knowing I couldn’t do that for my kids.
If we are lucky enough to have a third child, I won’t be able to breastfeed. Right now, I feel totally comfortable with that fact. It’s the choice I made. I didn’t want to watch and wait for a bad mammogram. It was a calculated decision, carefully weighed. But let’s see what the pregnancy hormones have in store for me at that time. I could be singing a whole different tune then. For now, I’m going to enjoy having a healthy body and wearing my new athletic look. Maybe I will even find a sparkly new bra that makes me feel like JLo? Not too shabby.

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