Saturday, August 18, 2007

I am Obsessed with Breasts

I mentioned to my daughter, Raine, that since moving to a new city and being newly single I wanted to start dating again – meet some interesting, soul-full men to hang out with while she is with her dad.

As only a child can, she said, “All you need is some new boobs.” I instantly shot her a questioning, disapproving glare and followed up with, “WHAT?” Understanding my question she quickly changed her statement to make me feel better, “Well at least ones that stand up higher, so they look like they did before you had a baby.”

I tried to make it into an educational moment and told her that a woman’s breast have a deep and profound purpose of nourishing life but it was obvious that she knew me too well. Kids see everything don’t that. She had watched me stand in front of the mirror assessing the boobage situation one too many times over the years. She was even a witness to my push-up, water bra phase that brought me instant cleavage and a ton of attention.

I must confess, I am a bit obsessed with breasts. I mean, I am constantly comparing and contrasting mine to others. I analyze and criticize those who opted for augmentation. It bothers me waaaaaay too much.

My desire is to settle into my body and truly love it for what it is. I wrote a poem several years ago called, “This Body.” I wrote it as an affirmation for myself to embrace the profound significance of my body and all of its beautiful, purpose-full parts. It was a first step in re-claiming my body with pride.

I think at 41 and a half it is time to embrace the all-ness of me/we. Women are truly magnificent creatures. (Do you know how scary this one was to write? – VERY!!)

Here is the poem.

This Body

These breasts may not be perky and proportioned.
These breasts sag and droop painted with marks of stretch,
but . . .
These breasts nurtured and nourished, gave life’s milk - overflowed with purpose and fortitude.

This stomach bulges, extruding beyond the hip bones.
Countless hours of exercise and weight loss and still the pooch remains,
but . . .
This stomach is a solid symbol of life once supported.
Stretching beyond recognition, over tiny arms and legs -
constantly pushing and turning.

These hips may not be narrow with skin smoothly covering defining bones.
These hips are wide and bulge with lumps of fat,
but . . .
These hips are wide with purpose, providing passage for my tender heart’s beat.
They symbolize strength and the power of birth.
Standing wide they shout stoic protection.

This body may not be perfection.
This body isn’t an hour-glass demanding heads to turn and hands to touch,
but . . .
This body is alive with life’s purpose.
Created to support and nourish and love life’s sweet breathe.
This body has achieved and demands appreciation and love for the power that is . . . this body.

by Karen Anderson


Ariana kiesel said...

I look at myself in the mirror and I am never happy with my breast. I felt I was to big, to flat to saggy, I was never happy. I had a reduction and now the scars and any weight gain or lose makes them look worse,

I should have just been happy with what was given to me and that they are still healthy and I was very fortuante to have been able to feed my children the best food ever.

Thank you for your beautiful poem it was very enlighting and I don't feel along.

mernitman said...

How could a man not respond to a post called "I Am Obsessed With Breasts?!"

Thank you for the insights and the inside-a-woman's-body point of view. That's a lovely, moving poem.

lani said...

I love this poem, Karen. I've read it before, and it was wonderful to revisit again today, while I'm 36 weeks pregnant with my second child, 35 years old, and wondering if I'll ever make friends with my own body.

Congratulations on the blog. Your journey continues to amaze and inspire me, and your photographs never fail to take my breath away.

Love to you and yours,
Lani Voivod
Content Lover of Epiphanies, Inc.
"A-Ha Yourself!"

P.S. Your breasts are PERFECT the way they are. :)