I Love My Boobs
Did that title get your attention? Haha! Well I say it with the most sincerest of attitudes… I love my boobs… and here is why. Several years ago during my annual gynecological visit my doctor found a knot in my left breast. The office quickly scheduled a mammogram and within a week I got the news I needed to come in for a biopsy. I think I blogged about it then… can’t really remember… but I remember feeling so scared. The thought of leaving my husband and children behind at such a young point in our family’s life saddened me to my core. I know thinking that way was premature but you know how our minds work… we ride the thought train all the way to the absolute worst scenario. And I did. It ended up being benign and life presumed as normal.
Well normal for me has taken on a different definition lately. I’ve been busy, overwhelmed and distracted all at the same time. My yearly mammogram visit crept up on me but I didn’t have a care in the world. They’ve been fine and clear for years and there is a cute little marker in my left breast to show that the knot has been signed, sealed and delivered. Other than the uncomfortable squeezing that happens during the exam I wasn’t concerned about a thing. I left my mammogram and headed home to join my family in quarantine.
Not even a full week later I got a call from my doctor’s office telling me they found a knot in my right breast. It shook me to my core. I was not expecting this and with everything else going on in the world today… I thought this is the last thing I want to deal with. One might assume that because my other knot was benign my mind would immediately go there… but it didn’t. I rode the train all the way to my funeral.
Before you call me dramatic or irrational - hear me out. There was a sense of urgency in the nurse's voice. She said we want to get you in as soon as possible for another mammogram and an ultrasound. I said ok. She wasn’t kidding… they had me come in the very next morning at 8am. Thank the Lord I only had one day to plan my funeral. I was hysterical. Thankfully my family was supportive and assured me everything would be ok and they loved me and were there for me.
The hospital was like a ghost town. I went through a screening before they let me in. I understand with COVID 19 being a fast spreading deadly virus this is a necessary precaution - but I’m not kidding when I say - with the army tents set up out front… the empty parking lots, the lack of people in the waiting room and hallways, the check in right behind the sliding glass doors - it looked like a scene from a post apocalyptic movie. They wouldn’t allow anyone to come with me so after my check in I headed down the long empty hallway alone. The custodians were cleaning. They had on mega masks, rubber gloves that looked like they were made for delivering calves and what appeared to be hazmat suits. I think I heard the Hunger Games music playing over the intercom.
I finally arrived at the office where the procedures would be performed. I was alone in the multi stall dressing room. It was creepy and quiet and they made me wait to be called in the same place where I changed… I sat patiently (anxiously) in my open front gown. It was there I realized how much I loved my boobs. I know it sounds silly… but as I stared at them in the mirror I imagined myself saying goodbye to them. They’ve been with me since I was 11. (I was an early bloomer) They fed 3 babies and have been a part of me my entire life. I’ve never looked in the mirror and not seen them. They make me feel feminine and beautiful. My clothes fit the way they do because of them… and I can’t imagine them not being there. I tried to look at the positive and tell myself “Hey, if you do have cancer and they have to come off… you can just get new ones.” But really this was just something I was telling myself to make myself and my loved ones feel better. I didn't want new ones. I wanted to keep mine.
I didn’t have to wait long… but it felt like hours. I went in for the mammogram, then waited, then went in for the ultrasound… then waited… then they came in and said we want to do a biopsy while you are here. That scared me to the point of almost having an anxiety attack. Then I thought… well I’m here and they aren’t as busy as usual… so maybe that is why but still I thought… this isn’t like last time. They called my insurance company to make sure the procedure could be done the same day… it was approved.
As I laid on the gurney, girls out, a technician sterilizing me, a nurse holding my hand and the doctor performing the procedure… I felt so alone. Then I heard the sweet whisper of God, “I am with you.” I closed my eyes and began to pray. You would think after all the anxiety, planning my funeral and crying myself to sleep that I would have prayed for a total healing… but I found myself praying, “God your will be done.” Peace came over me and for a moment in time I was truly at peace with whatever the outcome would be. I went home and tried to get it out of my mind. They said I’d have the results in a few days.
I spent a lot of time staring at my breasts in the mirror that day. Somewhere along the line in my life to becoming a good Christian woman I had ignored them. I felt like they were supposed to be covered up and not seen. I needed to wear things that would distract any attention from coming to them. Slow your roll - stop those nasty thoughts right there - let me explain. I don’t think we should dress provocatively or purposely try to bring attention to our breasts. I don’t think we should use them as a tool to try to attract someone’s attention. But I do think they are beautifully feminine… and wearing clothes that show off the feminine side of us can be done tastefully as well as beautifully and it doesn’t have to be a baggy sweatshirt or turtleneck. I can’t speak for every woman out there… but they make me feel like a woman. A soft God created woman with breasts that were given to me to feed my babies, to feel and look like a woman and yes for my husband’s pleasure. (Read the book of Solomon)
Like many I’m sure, I’ve been doing a lot of self reflection during quarantine, and I’m rediscovering things about myself. Like - I am a woman. Not just a wife, mother, evangelist, writer etc… but a woman. God made me a woman. So I am taking some time out to thank Him for making me a woman and I am thanking Him for all of the parts that make me a woman. I also rediscovered that I have boobs and while I am not going to dress like a hooker… I am not going to have a full blown panic attack if a crack of cleavage accidentally shows itself. If you only knew the bondage I’ve been in...
I know for some of you this blog is a little different than what I normally write… or how I write. But I am learning that being a child of God means so much more than what I’ve thought it has meant. He created an entire Universe. I am a part of that universe and every part of me is also a part of that universe and He loves me… and He wants me to love me too… and I’m getting there… starting with a long look in the mirror.
P.S. My results were benign.
God is good all the time and all the time God is good!
Well normal for me has taken on a different definition lately. I’ve been busy, overwhelmed and distracted all at the same time. My yearly mammogram visit crept up on me but I didn’t have a care in the world. They’ve been fine and clear for years and there is a cute little marker in my left breast to show that the knot has been signed, sealed and delivered. Other than the uncomfortable squeezing that happens during the exam I wasn’t concerned about a thing. I left my mammogram and headed home to join my family in quarantine.
Not even a full week later I got a call from my doctor’s office telling me they found a knot in my right breast. It shook me to my core. I was not expecting this and with everything else going on in the world today… I thought this is the last thing I want to deal with. One might assume that because my other knot was benign my mind would immediately go there… but it didn’t. I rode the train all the way to my funeral.
Before you call me dramatic or irrational - hear me out. There was a sense of urgency in the nurse's voice. She said we want to get you in as soon as possible for another mammogram and an ultrasound. I said ok. She wasn’t kidding… they had me come in the very next morning at 8am. Thank the Lord I only had one day to plan my funeral. I was hysterical. Thankfully my family was supportive and assured me everything would be ok and they loved me and were there for me.
The hospital was like a ghost town. I went through a screening before they let me in. I understand with COVID 19 being a fast spreading deadly virus this is a necessary precaution - but I’m not kidding when I say - with the army tents set up out front… the empty parking lots, the lack of people in the waiting room and hallways, the check in right behind the sliding glass doors - it looked like a scene from a post apocalyptic movie. They wouldn’t allow anyone to come with me so after my check in I headed down the long empty hallway alone. The custodians were cleaning. They had on mega masks, rubber gloves that looked like they were made for delivering calves and what appeared to be hazmat suits. I think I heard the Hunger Games music playing over the intercom.
I finally arrived at the office where the procedures would be performed. I was alone in the multi stall dressing room. It was creepy and quiet and they made me wait to be called in the same place where I changed… I sat patiently (anxiously) in my open front gown. It was there I realized how much I loved my boobs. I know it sounds silly… but as I stared at them in the mirror I imagined myself saying goodbye to them. They’ve been with me since I was 11. (I was an early bloomer) They fed 3 babies and have been a part of me my entire life. I’ve never looked in the mirror and not seen them. They make me feel feminine and beautiful. My clothes fit the way they do because of them… and I can’t imagine them not being there. I tried to look at the positive and tell myself “Hey, if you do have cancer and they have to come off… you can just get new ones.” But really this was just something I was telling myself to make myself and my loved ones feel better. I didn't want new ones. I wanted to keep mine.
I didn’t have to wait long… but it felt like hours. I went in for the mammogram, then waited, then went in for the ultrasound… then waited… then they came in and said we want to do a biopsy while you are here. That scared me to the point of almost having an anxiety attack. Then I thought… well I’m here and they aren’t as busy as usual… so maybe that is why but still I thought… this isn’t like last time. They called my insurance company to make sure the procedure could be done the same day… it was approved.
As I laid on the gurney, girls out, a technician sterilizing me, a nurse holding my hand and the doctor performing the procedure… I felt so alone. Then I heard the sweet whisper of God, “I am with you.” I closed my eyes and began to pray. You would think after all the anxiety, planning my funeral and crying myself to sleep that I would have prayed for a total healing… but I found myself praying, “God your will be done.” Peace came over me and for a moment in time I was truly at peace with whatever the outcome would be. I went home and tried to get it out of my mind. They said I’d have the results in a few days.
I spent a lot of time staring at my breasts in the mirror that day. Somewhere along the line in my life to becoming a good Christian woman I had ignored them. I felt like they were supposed to be covered up and not seen. I needed to wear things that would distract any attention from coming to them. Slow your roll - stop those nasty thoughts right there - let me explain. I don’t think we should dress provocatively or purposely try to bring attention to our breasts. I don’t think we should use them as a tool to try to attract someone’s attention. But I do think they are beautifully feminine… and wearing clothes that show off the feminine side of us can be done tastefully as well as beautifully and it doesn’t have to be a baggy sweatshirt or turtleneck. I can’t speak for every woman out there… but they make me feel like a woman. A soft God created woman with breasts that were given to me to feed my babies, to feel and look like a woman and yes for my husband’s pleasure. (Read the book of Solomon)
Like many I’m sure, I’ve been doing a lot of self reflection during quarantine, and I’m rediscovering things about myself. Like - I am a woman. Not just a wife, mother, evangelist, writer etc… but a woman. God made me a woman. So I am taking some time out to thank Him for making me a woman and I am thanking Him for all of the parts that make me a woman. I also rediscovered that I have boobs and while I am not going to dress like a hooker… I am not going to have a full blown panic attack if a crack of cleavage accidentally shows itself. If you only knew the bondage I’ve been in...
I know for some of you this blog is a little different than what I normally write… or how I write. But I am learning that being a child of God means so much more than what I’ve thought it has meant. He created an entire Universe. I am a part of that universe and every part of me is also a part of that universe and He loves me… and He wants me to love me too… and I’m getting there… starting with a long look in the mirror.
P.S. My results were benign.
God is good all the time and all the time God is good!
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