Nice Melons!

Why yes, I did wait to write this post until melons 

were on sale at the supermarket.

So, I  have never been what you would describe as a very voluptuous lady. I started wearing bras far before I actually needed them and dreamed throughout my formative years of someday filling out a B cup. I made it to this goal in my early twenties through perseverance and hard work, but then... I got pregnant.

And 'twas only then, with a bit of help from a torrent of hormones, that I got the boobs of my dreams. (No surgery required! Okay, well, actually, some surgery required. Just not the kind I used to watch on MTV's "True Life: I'm Getting Breast Implants" when I was a teenager.) What once were modest Bs are now full Cs and well on their way to Ds. I'm down to one bra that "fits." I may, very soon, be able to have actual cleavage. I know, I couldn't believe it either. Mammary glands fulfilling their biological purpose FTW!

The only wrinkle is that my tatas are starting to give me away. I saw a friend over the weekend who had seen me last in January, and about five minutes into our conversation, she said - and this is verbatim - "So are we supposed to pretend your boobs aren't twice their usual size?" I guess this whole hiding-the-pregnancy thing is getting more desperate than I thought. (For the record, I mumbled back something about a new bra and she totally didn't buy it, but hopefully I'll be able to announce everything officially after my next ultrasound in a week and a half and feel like less of a liar.)

In the meantime, I'm really enjoying my new rack. And I'm immortalizing this feeling now so that in several months, or years, when my breasts are deflated and wrinkled, I remember those few glorious days of pregnancy when my biggest problem was the size of my knockers. If only it were like this all the time!