Dear Pre-Baby Boobs,

I’m so sorry that I ever wished for you to be bigger, that I never appreciated your ability to hold yourself up in a strapless dress or be supported by a thin tube top.

You were always there for me, happily pointing in the same direction and easily corraled by a cheap bra from the Juniors section of Target. 

I’m sorry that I never paid you more respect, bought you the good bras from Nordstrom, had you professionally measured or bragged about you more. Forgive me, I was young and naive.

I thought I spared you. You couldn’t feed the baby and I didn’t resent you. Instead, I celebrated the prospect of you bouncing back to your old selves and me being able to drink all of the wine.

I’m sorry for what happened to you.

The doctor told me that I gained just the right amount of weight, but you bore the brunt of the pregnancy flux. My pre-pregnancy jeans can stretch to manage the load that is my hips but those pre- pregnancy bras are not match for you.

I miss you.

Will you come back?

I promise to buy you nice things, to treat you with kindness and the respect you deserve.

I’ll be here waiting, silky backless top in hand. You know where to find me. 

Please come back.

I love you.


Strapless dress, no bra. 

Single tear.