When I hit seventh grade, I found myself yearning for a bra. It wasn’t that I actually needed one, but in the gym locker room, every girl sported one, and I felt like the odd one out with my flat chest and absence of bra straps. At that age, I assumed the “boob fairy” had simply overlooked me. Little did I know, I’d be waiting years, and when she finally showed up, it was with a bag nearly empty, leaving me with just a sprinkle of breast dust.
I’m the poster child for the “barely-A” cup. I proudly hold the title of the Flat Girls Club’s queen. Picture a combination of Marilyn Monroe’s body with a supermodel’s bust—minus the height. That was me. Despite my efforts to embrace body positivity, my small breasts often left me feeling less than womanly. I spent much of my youth wishing for cleavage and the ability to fill out a swimsuit. I relied on padded bras to create the illusion that I had something to show off, dreaming of even a modest B-cup to balance my pear-shaped figure.
Looking back at that younger version of myself, I can’t help but shake my head. She had no clue just how powerful her tiny breasts could be.
When I became pregnant with my first child, I relished the changes my body underwent. My belly rounded beautifully, and my breasts, for the first time, began to fill out. After my daughter was born, I experienced a whirlwind transformation, going from a solid B-cup to a C, and then to “Wait, is that a D?!” in just a few days. Of course, this was just temporary engorgement, and I eventually settled back to a comfortable B+. For the first time, my breasts made me feel truly womanly.
But the real shift in my perspective came when I began to breastfeed. I had always known I wanted to nurse my baby, but I was unprepared for the profound effect it would have on how I perceived my body. Watching my daughter latch on and knowing that my breasts were providing all she needed was nothing short of miraculous. I witnessed her grow, gaining rolls of baby fat and chubby cheeks, all thanks to the milk produced by my tiny, previously overlooked breasts.
Those little breasts were literally creating life. I was astounded by the miracle happening every day. And as my babies grew, so did my appreciation for my breasts. When I nursed my second daughter, I was able to pump milk for my brother-in-law’s newborn son, who was adopted. I had enough milk to nourish both my child and his, creating two roly-poly babies from my small A-cups. Breastfeeding became my superpower, allowing my little breasts to prove they were an essential force to be reckoned with.
Years later, even after I stopped breastfeeding, I continue to hold my breasts in high esteem. I like to think that I would have eventually learned to love them, even without the experience of breastfeeding. After all, there are distinct advantages to having small breasts. They remain “perky” after three kids, there’s no sagging to worry about, and I can comfortably lie on my stomach or run without discomfort—even without a sports bra.
Yet, I doubt I would have appreciated all these perks without witnessing the power of my breasts firsthand. It seems the breast fairy had a plan all along.
For those interested in their own journey with at-home insemination, be sure to check out our guide on the at-home insemination kit. This resource will help you understand the ins and outs of self-insemination, while BabyMaker offers authoritative advice on the topic. If you’re looking for additional information regarding pregnancy and fertility, Hopkins Medicine’s fertility center is an excellent resource.
In summary, my experience with breastfeeding transformed my view of my small breasts from something I felt insecure about into a source of pride and empowerment. I learned to appreciate their unique advantages and understand their incredible capabilities.
Keyphrase: learning to appreciate small breasts through breastfeeding
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]