Friday, June 20, 2003
HAVING BREASTS, Sex and Lies continued... Friday, June 06, 2003
Being pregnant had some pleasant side effects. I had breasts. Not that I didn't have breasts, it's just that they were relatively inconsequential. Early on I learned to make the most of what I had. My rib cage is rather high and prominent. At puberty I practiced in front of a mirror and saw that if I stood-up really straight, pulled my shoulders back, sucked in my stomach muscles, it looked like I really had acceptible breasts. Men were attracted to me. It was all an illusion. I owed it to excellent posture.
In pregnancy my breasts became lush, large, and the nipples seemed to darken. It was as though I wasn't me. After Erika was born they said I had to stay in the hospital until "my milk came in". It seemed almost ominous to me at the time, but I was sure I wanted to breast feed. Everything I had read seemed to say this was the best way to go. I also had this urge to have that wiggly little creature next to me at all times. This is from a women who would never have had a baby by choice.
By the end of the first 24 hours in the hospital, I REALLY wanted to go home. Nurses kept coming into check to see if "my milk came in". I think they give the baby sugar water or something while we wait for this phenomena to occur. I was beginning to worry. Maybe something went wrong and my body couldn't manufacture this stuff. The morning of the second day, I opened my eyes. In front of me where these two gigantic breasts, I mean the Himalayas. I couldn't see past them. We're talking hard and huge (relative to what I had always lived with). The nurses seemed pleased. My milk had finally come in.
SERIAL MONOGAMY, Sex and Lies continued...
RG's dad is approaching 80 and it looks like wifey number 4 is waiting in the wings. The son of wifey number 3 (who recently died) called RG to express his concern about the dad's competance, the new women's REAL motive (money as opposed to love), she is more than 20 years younger, and so on. The son thinks he stands to loose some cash if this marriage is consumated.
It all started about 55 years ago when RG's mom left the dad in question. A good Mormon family, but she was moving on to a new life. Husband number 2 turned out to be a real asshole, much worse then the first (see above). At some point things got so bad that husband number 2 morphed into husband number 3. Children were produced along the way. All good Mormon children of course. (except RG who got excommunicated from the church, but that's another story)When I met mom, she was on husband number 4. This could be the end of the road for her - but I wouldn't stake my life on it.
My folks chose the alternative to serial monogamy. They went the secret affairs, sex and lies, let's pretend we're monogamous route. They are still together, dying together in what looks like living hell to me, but I'm not them, so who can be sure?
One monogamous marriage was enough for me. After that I tried multiple, parallel-simultaneous relationships held together with sex and lies. Until I met RG and everything changed.
Being pregnant had some pleasant side effects. I had breasts. Not that I didn't have breasts, it's just that they were relatively inconsequential. Early on I learned to make the most of what I had. My rib cage is rather high and prominent. At puberty I practiced in front of a mirror and saw that if I stood-up really straight, pulled my shoulders back, sucked in my stomach muscles, it looked like I really had acceptible breasts. Men were attracted to me. It was all an illusion. I owed it to excellent posture.
In pregnancy my breasts became lush, large, and the nipples seemed to darken. It was as though I wasn't me. After Erika was born they said I had to stay in the hospital until "my milk came in". It seemed almost ominous to me at the time, but I was sure I wanted to breast feed. Everything I had read seemed to say this was the best way to go. I also had this urge to have that wiggly little creature next to me at all times. This is from a women who would never have had a baby by choice.
By the end of the first 24 hours in the hospital, I REALLY wanted to go home. Nurses kept coming into check to see if "my milk came in". I think they give the baby sugar water or something while we wait for this phenomena to occur. I was beginning to worry. Maybe something went wrong and my body couldn't manufacture this stuff. The morning of the second day, I opened my eyes. In front of me where these two gigantic breasts, I mean the Himalayas. I couldn't see past them. We're talking hard and huge (relative to what I had always lived with). The nurses seemed pleased. My milk had finally come in.
SERIAL MONOGAMY, Sex and Lies continued...
RG's dad is approaching 80 and it looks like wifey number 4 is waiting in the wings. The son of wifey number 3 (who recently died) called RG to express his concern about the dad's competance, the new women's REAL motive (money as opposed to love), she is more than 20 years younger, and so on. The son thinks he stands to loose some cash if this marriage is consumated.
It all started about 55 years ago when RG's mom left the dad in question. A good Mormon family, but she was moving on to a new life. Husband number 2 turned out to be a real asshole, much worse then the first (see above). At some point things got so bad that husband number 2 morphed into husband number 3. Children were produced along the way. All good Mormon children of course. (except RG who got excommunicated from the church, but that's another story)When I met mom, she was on husband number 4. This could be the end of the road for her - but I wouldn't stake my life on it.
My folks chose the alternative to serial monogamy. They went the secret affairs, sex and lies, let's pretend we're monogamous route. They are still together, dying together in what looks like living hell to me, but I'm not them, so who can be sure?
One monogamous marriage was enough for me. After that I tried multiple, parallel-simultaneous relationships held together with sex and lies. Until I met RG and everything changed.
