We were first introduced when I was eleven.  Small, almost non-existent, late to the scene some might say. But you came when you were ready and you were there none the less.

Many locker room jokes happened at your expense. You often had freedom; braless appearances.  We’ve experienced some interesting times together.

You really threw me for a loop during pregnancy.  And let’s not forget about your big functional debut. You tripled in size overnight after giving birth.

Was that payback from when I cursed you in sixth grade for only being mosquito bite sized?

Good Ol’ righty gave up during the first month of nursing, shrunk right back to original size.  While sister lefty decided to keep on trucking. Yes. Yes, together we were a freak show.  But you nourished my daughter at 2 AM feedings.  You cemented a bond.  I’m forever thankful for those tender moments.  And when sister lefty was being overworked and underperforming, we called it quits.  I had a four month period of constantly talking about you. And here we are again.

Only this time, the lump in sister lefty really sealed the deal.  This is a formal break up.  This mutation shot fire first.  You’ve threatened my family.  While you were once fun and sexy, you are now causing fear and anxiety.

Rather than squish you ever six months and have a lifetime of uncertainty… This is good-bye. Thank you for your services.

“But how will you feed your future babies?” you ask. Breast might be best my dear, but not if your breasts threaten to kill you.  The bottle will do just fine.  “But won’t you feel less feminine without me?”, you wonder.  Taking action, finding strength I didn’t know I had has given me a confidence you just never could provide.  Plus, a more even keeled set is in my future.  I am thankful for all you’ve taught me.  Our separation will help me grow into the woman I am meant to be.

Bon Voyage Boobs.

I wish you all the best.