When I was a kid my mom wasn’t very happy about the size of her breasts. Her bra size was 32AA. I internalized that smaller breasts were bad. As I hit puberty and early adulthood I spent a lot of time being upset about how small my boobs were. While wearing a D cup. Then I took birth control and I swelled to an E cup. Then I got pregnant and swelled to probably an F. Then I nursed for years. I now wear a DD/E depending on brand (if I bother to wear a bra at all–which I very rarely do) and I no longer wish for larger breasts. I’m big enough, damnit. I have to buy fucking specialty bras. It’s a pain in the ass. But in my head… I still don’t have particularly large breasts. Because we imprint in funny ways.
Except for periodic walks, bike rides, or dance class… I have been a slug since the Easter party. I helped take down the outside decorations that would get ruined in rain. Pretty much all the other clean up… Noah has done. I’m sitting around and reading and resting. I’m told this is good for me.
I am delighted to report that in terms of pain… most of my big injury spots are being well behaved. I haven’t seriously injured myself again in the past month or more. Yay! But I have a lot of nerve/joint pain. Boo. I would say I have areas that are spiking to 4/5 in pain but most of my body is hanging out around 2/3. That’s not bad for me.
Everything is relative.
And… I won’t be writing the and stuff. Never mind. Got busy!
But, before I hit post, I talked to my cousin on the phone. It went really really really really well.