(I’m no Patrick Nagel, but I thought my little drawing up there wasn’t half bad.)

I’ve never really ever had much going on up top. I mean, yes, there are most definitely breasts on my chest. But I wouldn’t call them…bountiful. In junior high and high school, I bemoaned my “gently rollings plains” as the boys called them when comparing my barely budded breasts with those of the bodacious Baker twins. (And by twins I mean two female sisters. And their identical D cups in 7th grade.)  

But, I strive to make peace with my body. And eventually I found that not all potential lovers were interested in the girl with the biggest knockers. When a childhood friend got a breast reduction at 18 years old, I realized that large breasts were not just fun and games. They can be a huge hassle. And that helped me get over my “woe is me, I have no tatas” rhetoric.

So, what I’m getting at here is, I’ve never been ogled for my boobs. Now, I do have a fantastic ass. And when only certain parts of my body are being admired, that would be the area that gets the most notice. I don’t necessarily encourage that kind of attention, but when I have gotten unsolicited observations by third parties, that would be the area I hear the most about.

However, with this pregnancy my body is…changing. I haven’t become a D cup or anything, but I would say that the girls have gotten maybe a full cup size bigger. Just big enough that these maternity shirts are starting to show a bit of cleavage despite my preference for sports bras these days.

And I don’t really know how to react to it. I’ve never had that moment of “my eyes are up here boys” before. So it’s strange when I catch men looking at my breasts. I always think there’s mustard smeared on my shirt or something, so I look down and see my cleavage on perfect display. By now the man has looked away because he’s noticed that I’ve noticed him. So there’s no silent stare down or anything. I usually just pull my shirt back where it belongs and continue doing whatever I was doing before.

What I’d really like is for these new sight seeing destinations to start pulling their weight. When will I start getting whipped cream on my latte for free just because I have a decent rack? When will mechanics start giving me discounts on my car service just because I coupled “come hither” eyes with my décolletage?

Or were all my presumptions about what life would be like with larger breasts based on false information from television and movies? You mean I gotta lug these things around, and I get no life bonus for it? Well now I just feel conned into moving heavy furniture for free!

I do know what the real life bonus is though. It’s being able to feed my baby once he or she is born with the best thing for him or her. So when I catch men looking at my breasts, I’m trying to remind myself that these aren’t for them. These puppies are for my baby. And maybe just a little bit for myself.

I’m not going to lie. I do kinda like how I’m filling out shirts nowadays. Both in the belly and the chest.