Forget my creaky joints [okay, don’t – I have a referral to a specialist for mid-January], here’s the newest complaint: I have achy boobs.
I swear, at night, while they are supposed to to be resting and recuperating from a day of pummelling and vacuum forces, I can feel them dragging themselves into droopage. The discomfort is not anything dire – I’ve done the blocked bit a few times, and this isn’t it – it’s more of an underwhelming, hollow, stretchy resignation to the forces of gravity.
I’ve been wistfully eyeballing cute little bras as of late, now that the Magpie has been introduced to solid foodstuffs [really, I know it won’t be anytime soon, but still…], but I now suspect that I won’t have the pleasure of returning to cute little anything.
The breastfeeding may end one day, but I have the feeling that the girls are going to need all the help they can get after it’s all said and done.