We're kicking off the March birthday extravaganza with a celebration for my sister, Mary. We're attending a bowling party today to mark her 26th.
I called her on the actual day to convey my good wishes and also to tell her that I remember every single second of my own 26th birthday.
"Why?" she asked. "Because you were giving birth?"
That's right, I confirmed. I labored the entire day away.
Next, a couple of nights later, I went out with her and some of her friends to savor the birthday cheer. Before I left the house, I looked myself in the mirror and vowed not discuss my breasts in any way. I know this seems like it should be an unnecessary reminder, but for some reason, I have a hard time avoiding the topic.
"Just don't do it," I told myself, sensibly.
Did I follow this advice? No I did not. I told the girls all about the Incredible Shrinking Chest Size and even described the texture of my appendages as "dried up bags of rocks." I then pantomimed the latest ultrasound that revealed the rocks to be simply benign rocks, and not cancerous rocks.
I see two problems here: chronic oversharing AND (and this is probably way worse) making other people's birthdays all about me, my labor and delivery, and my breasts.
SORRY, MARY! I will NOT discuss my body, its parts, flaws, or functions, at your birthday party today. This is my solemn vow.
3 comments:
I give myself these little talks. Doesn't matter. I don't heed my own advice most of the time.
Wait what's happening? Is everything ok with your breasts? Is this what happens when you reproduce???
I read this post to J and we were howling with laughter. We certainly didn't mind talking about your breasts - in fact, by the end of the convo, I think we had referenced everyone's a few times. So we'll call it even. How did the breast vow go at the bowling party? It seems like there are too many orbs in bowling to not mention breasts even one time.
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