Warning: this post is about breasts

So if you don't know me all that well, or you're my father-in-law, you might not want to read the rest of this post. It may make you a little uncomfortable. There, you've been warned.

So when I was a teenager and it became apparent that I might be heading into that oh-so-joyful time of your life called, Puberty, I was actually pretty excited. When your a late bloomer (like me) you have no problem with the prospect of getting your period, not to mention the chest that comes with it. And by the way, it actually is way better to have it, than to be the only one who doesn't (just to set the record straight for all you early bloomers out there.) But back to my point. I waited for the lovely chest that would inevitably follow my baptism into womanhood. I waited and waited and waited. And for some cruel reason, the chest part of puberty never showed up, and I was left feeling a little disappointed when I finally reached the age of 18 and realized that this was all I was ever getting. Disappointing. Then I met Craig, fell in love, got engaged, prepped him on the fact that my chest was non-existent and that I wore a padded bra, got married, and then got pregnant, and boom, hello my chest showed up, 8 years late, and with a fat belly and swollen ankles, but dang it all, I had boobs. Then I had Hannah, got engorged and they got HUMONGOUS! I decided then, that I should probably never have a big chest... it just looks wrong on me, I'm to short for big boobs. But I could do for some normal sized ones. I mean is size A asking too much? I don't think so. So when I nurse I'm a nice healthy size A. Problem there is that the smallest size nursing bra that anyone makes is a B. Apparently no one as flat chested as me ever nurses. Yeah, so I have to wear a bra that's too big for 8 months. Lovely. But still, I'm loving my healthy little size A chest. Which brings me to my present situation. I'm done nursing Ethan, it's over, chest gone. And after nursing three babies, let me tell you, of the little that was there to begin with there's not much left. I'm talking almost non-existent, sad day. And I know I'm 25 and it really shouldn't bother me, but it still kind of does. Kind of superficial, but sadly true. I kind of wish I had something there, I don't love feeling so deflated, and it's kind of hard to feel sexy with a teeny-bopper chest. Here's the thing that I'm starting to figure out though, and it's changing my life. My body isn't perfect, but it is. Yeah, I'm dang short, I have chubby cheeks, and a SUPER flat chest. But so what? There's nothing wrong with me. There's nothing wrong with the way I look. I look in the mirror and my pathetic excuse for a chest and tell myself that it's a beautiful thing that I've given up the little amount of breasts I had, and let my hips get a little wider, and the skin on my tummy a little bit stretchier, so I could bring three amazing children into this world. And it really is a beautiful thing. The Lord has blessed me with a body, as small as it is, that can carry a baby and deliver normally, without complications. That's a beautiful gift. Some people can't ever have babies. And I am beautiful, in my own unique way. Who made the rule that there was one perfect body type, anyway? Even more than that, when I look in the mirror, I ask myself what kind of person am I on the inside, what kind of character I'm developing, and to be perfectly honest, it's not always pretty. There's so much more to beauty than what meets the eye. How many times have you met a real looker, got to know them, and then were surprised by how ugly they all the suddenly got. And on the flip side, you'll meet some average looking phenomenal person and they become the most beautiful person in the world to you? I think if I had to chose, I'd go for door #2. And that kind of beauty has nothing to do with what you wear, how well you put on your make-up, or the size of your chest.