I suppose I shouldn't really complain about the fact that my boobs have more than doubled in size since they became Baby's instant milk machine; having a biggish chest sure does make the rest of one's body look petite, and that's a definite plus.
But I do miss being pert.
I miss being able to wear little strappy tops in summer, without the robust, canti-levering foundation garment underneath.
I miss sleeping on my stomach without fear of puncturing something.
I miss wearing shirts that fit perfectly across the shoulders, yet don't bind across my chest.
I hate having to list, can I breastfeed in this?, to my list of good shirt criteria.
I miss being able to run across the street without the feeling of twin water-filled balloons bouncing striking my chin.
I worry that, by the time Baby's off the mummy milk, my boobs will be different sizes.
And I will no longer be able to refer to the pencil test* without feeling wistful.
*The pencil test is one which tests "pertness". You place a pencil underneath one boob, and if it stays where it is then you ain't.