Attention all women: WE HAVE BEEN CONNED!!!
It has taken me two pregnancies, two babies, two and a half years of breastfeeding, several bouts of blocked ducts, mastitis, milk blisters, engorgement and most recently, two sore and bleeding, so painful, make me cringe when I even think about nursing, cracked nipples, to make me see what should have been obvious all along.
Women's underwear is a giant SHAM!
I spent the vast majority of my twenties picking self induced wedgies out of my bum and then telling myself they were oh so comfortable (really! (pick pick) I can't feel a thing!) all to avoid the indignity of the dreaded “pantyline.” It wasn't until I became pregnant on the snot queen that I discovered the joy of plain cotton bikini briefs and the happiness that is air circulating in my nether regions.
As for bras... Where oh where do I begin?
Is it with the shame and agony of reading about and then promptly failing the “pencil test” of Cosmopolitan magazine fame? For those of you not in the know, this involves placing a pencil under your naked breasts. If it falls out, you have no worries in this life. Your breasts are firm and perky and you will forever be able to wear “pretty bras” made of little more then dental floss and ribbons.
If on the other hand your, “already a D cup at 15 years of age and destined to be a G cup by millenium's end” breasts can confidently hold an economy size can of L'oreal's Elnet hair spray under each one, then you are doomed to a loveless life of “boxed bras” and misery.
No frilly little nothings for you my sweet! Uh uh uhn! The only brassieres you will be wearing will be those of the “industrial strength” variety. The ones which bring to mind the words “granny” and “hospital issue.” Then, when you do eventually find a “pretty” bra to fit your generous proportions, your itty bitty titty friends will prick holes all over your happiness bubble by wearing said “pretty” bra on their heads and laughing at what great hats they make.
But I digress...
Big bosomed or tiny titted, we all share one thing in common. We are told from an early age that bras are an absolute necessity. That on a list of life's essentials, they are right up there with air, water, food and the internet.
You MUST wear them! If at anytime in this life, your breasts are found to be at any point other then mid way between your shoulder and your elbow, BAD THINGS WILL HAPPEN.
Then, during pregnancy when your breasts turn into huge, painful lumps, the proportions of which leave your head spinning, you are told that the only answer is to keep them supported 24/7. That's right, sleep in your bra.
Well guess what? I didn't wear a bra to bed and you know what? The only time of day I experienced any relief from the ginormous, painful rocks strapped to my chest was first thing in the morning after 8 hours freed from their cotton/nylon/polyester prison.
However, it wasn't until last week that the penny really and truly dropped. After weeks of suffering with sore, bleeding, cracked nipples (thank you tiny one, mama appreciates your enthusiasm) it was time to take drastic measures. Out came the almond oil, the lansinoh and the breast pump. Off went the bra.
I prepared for the blocked ducts and painful engorgement which generally follow even the merest thought of my not nursing my little darlings on demand, 24/7.
It never came.
Apparently, not being bound up in layers of cotton and elastic agreed with them...
Sorry Victoria, you can keep your secrets... As for me? I'm letting it all hang out.
(Around the house anyway...)
Now, I'd like to thank everyone who submitted poems to the great Cushelle Giveaway but alas, there can only be one winner! Soooooo.... Drumroll please... The winner of the Cushelle Goody bag is.... Eimear! It actually made me cry :) (Jen, please still be my chum!)
Now, I must publish this before the dodgy internet connection that has been so kindly provided to us by the bastards at a certain un-named mobile broadband provider breaks off again as it is wont to do every ten seconds or so. All the best!