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The word “boobs” has always caused me to squirm in discomfort. Say the word “boobies” and I used to even blush. It’s a term that can seem derogatory along with the rest of the inaccurate female breast terms: tits, jugs, melons, knockers, and there are a plethora of others. Oddly, “boobs” also refers to an idiot. Hmm, respectful? Thankfully, the word “breast” sounds confident and strong like a marble goddess statue, which is a term that women deserve.

The significance of women’s breasts in our culture today makes deciding on surgeries a huge challenge. Breasts are not just mounds of fat–well, actually, they kinda are–but they are so much more. They’re femininity, sensuality, sexuality; they’re what people look for when they are not sure if someone is male or female. Breasts define us as women.

My breasts were smaller, often causing me to feel underdeveloped as a woman. Paradoxically, I was not able to breastfeed my babies beyond an ounce or two of milk. Honestly, it made altering my breasts bittersweet. If I had been able to produce enough milk to exclusively keep my babies alive, I may have felt like a superhero. How amazing that breasts can sustain life. Still, at the thought of having no breasts, I decided to appreciate my beautiful breasts as a part of my feminine self.

The word abreast keeps coming to mind as I write. defines it as:

  1. side by side; beside each other in a line: They walked two abreast down the street. 2. equal to or alongside in progress, attainment, or awareness

Whether we have a BRCA gene mutation in common or not, let’s be sure to walk this journey called life together, abreast.

What do you love about your breasts–new, former or same ol’?