Let’s make it about my breasts, shall we?

I know, from time to time I do blather on about my front side but the fact of the matter is that the girls truly do flummox me. They are just so out there, right in front. They’re not like a heel callus or a huge old knee wart, they are the head lights of the car. Tonight I attended a post season soccer awards ceremony at Loren’s school, an effort that involved me changing out of my usual uniform of the grey T-shirt and velvety yoga pants into a pair of real pants with a zipper and a sleeveless shell covered by a light weight wool cardigan. Sounds cute enough, but in reality? Once a piece of clothing manages to cover my girls, unless it is spandex, it has nowhere to go but out. Out as in looking six months pregnant out.
I have been working in earnest to shed some of the pounds I gained after Devon’s birth. Yes, that’s right. After. I was almost down to my regular size and weight, although not in the breast area, when I started taking Prozac for nine months when Devon was a little over a year old. And in those nine months I gained close to 25 pounds, much of them in my boobs. Never before have I gained weight like that and not been harboring a human spawn within my uterine walls. But the gain the weight I did and now I am really trying hard to lose it. I attend Birkram’s hot yoga 3-4 times per week and hike at least one other time a week. I don’t eat much in the way of carbs because I can’t, they literally make me sick. So I have been firming up and in some areas, the ones I can see above and over my enormous tits, I can see a difference. Even my back fat seems to ooze less severely over my bra straps. But the front side? No. Nothing.
This morning I was lamenting this dilemma to my mother, the whole dog maiming thing is dying down a bit and we can discuss a few other things besides the dog’s current state of comfort through her pain, and she took a good look up and down my physique to evaluate the situation. “Yep, I can see your point. You are getting a bit of a turkey jowl thing under the chin. And the rest of you? Well, you can do something about that,” she said as she motioned her hand near my front side. “You can visit a doctor in Central America and for half the price of an American doctor get the works done. You should start a fund and make it a 40th birthday present to yourself.”
Seriously, under all that I just know there is a soft, cuddly woman dying to get out and make me a batch of chocolate chip cookies.