Too big. Too little. Perky or tired. Breasts never seem to measure up to what media tells us they should be. My breasts are not the perfect globes of wonder used to sell cars and beer. I’d have to say they really didn’t have any redeeming qualities until I became a mother. And then, despite having supply issues, which once again made them inferior, they found their niche.
They make milk, nourishing and comforting my children. They serve a purpose beyond ornamentation. It’s a different view of womanhood. Instead of being womanly because they are viewed as sexy by the opposite sex, they are womanly because they are serving an inherently feminine purpose. I can embrace that. These breasts were made for nursing.