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One of the things with a second pregnancy that one expects is the quick enlargement of the breasts.  It’s going to happen, and it’s going to keep on happening.  It’s like having a pump up – push up bra that you cannot control.  One day they fit into the cup size one has come to terms (or not) with, and the next it’s almost like being a circus ringmaster with a training whip in hand yelling “Down girls!”

I was a late bloomer.  Correction.  I was a very late bloomer.  Sure I started wearing a bra at a young age (the earliest I can recall is around 10) but I couldn’t help but compare my lacking chest with my classmates.  Mine were so darn perky compared to some of the girls, theirs actually had a little bit a droop and I was so jealous.  Women spend a huge hunk of time comparing themselves to others, and it starts early.  I really wanted to get the attention of the guys like some of the more blessed girls, but for some reason it didn’t occur to me that it wasn’t my lack of cup filling out – but my total lack of being anything remotely cool.

Probably somewhere in middle school I discovered the pushup bra.  My sister made fun of me because I had no true need for a push up as they were already up.  Still I thought it was a genius invention and allowed me to wear tighter shirts and balanced out my already well developed hips and rear.  It wasn’t untill somewhere in academy that I heard from my Aunt about the pencil test.  You know… when you test the perkyness of your breasts by seeing if you can stick a pencil under them.  It was then I realized that my breasts were never going to drop, yes they were filling out nicely but as far as I was concerned they were at my collarbone and just didn’t look quite right.

Upon my early 20’s I wasn’t too worried about my cups anymore, I had already decided that around the age of 30 I’d get a boob job and that was that.  I started to embrace my figure and actually my perky breasts were a great asset in petite modeling as I still had a “younger” look about my figure thanks to their attention given state.  Then along came pregnancy and I zoomed though the alphabet faster than a Sesame Street charter on speed.  Overnight I woke up to them not just at my collarbone but with a bra, they made a chin rest for me.  It was only after the birth of Mini-Me did I finally have a reason for the pencil test, but only if I hunched my shoulders forward a bit.

Tonight I made the mistake of taking my measurements and looking for some sales online.  Big Mistake.  (no pun intended) I was surprised that I didn’t end up on a Google search for industrial sized underwires and heavy duty duct tape.  I looked in the mirror and for the first time I didn’t get the visual of the ringmaster with a whip yelling “down girls”. Instead I promptly started calculating how fast I could get a return on surgical investment.