Headlights? High beams? Low beams?

It is all about breasts.

They are secret women’s business, on public display.

Got none?

Got too much?

Want them enlarged?

Want them reduced?

More than a handful?

Mine are perfect.

When I say perfect, I mean perfect as they are and perfect as they are not.

I am not looking for some measure of perfection.

Breasts are everywhere. They are the poster girl apparatus that can sell almost anything. Once they finally pop out, they are a continued source of attention, anxiety and (dare I say) titillation.

If we get down to the pink bits about breasts, their main functions are to feed our young and enhance sexual pleasure. Mine came at the age of 14…they took their good time! I was flat chested for some time and much coaxing was done to bring them front and center.

I even did those exercises and chanted, “I must, must, must improve my bust, bust, bust.”

It was a constant wish of mine to have bigger boobs. (Be careful what you wish for!)

During High School we had the unfortunate situation of having summer uniforms with front zips. This meant that pubescent teenage boys running past us would try for a speedy unzip in the hope of a quick peek. This often resulted in a bump to the tender developing and budding breast area.

It was not a game that any of us girls enjoyed.

So we’d mostly wear sweaters (not pleasant in 32 Celsius/90 Fahrenheit heat) to thwart these attempts and to minimize attention. Just as no man wants to be hit in the testicles, no woman wants to be hit in the breast—it’s a tender and sensitive area.

I have teenagers of my own now. I notice when they are being gawked at, or perved on, and their breasts being ogled. Especially when we are walking together.

I know men look…they might call it appreciation!

But a bit of discretion please, fellas—especially when they are with their mom!

I want to know I can walk the streets without this unwanted attention, for my daughters, my sisters and myself.

I am not discouraging people from offering this delightful part of the female body attention—they are known to rise and awaken by a gentle hand or mouth. But let’s do it in the privacy of our boudoir.

All breasts are worthy of honoring. Mine get an abundant attention by my lover (my husband) and this delights us both.

At my chiropractic appointment recently, my chiropractor spoke about the need for the breasts to have some freedom and feel unrestricted during each day, to gently bounce up and down.

This works for me. I love when they and I can just relax.

All breasts need downtime.

Many of us women groan about the “over the shoulder boulder holders” we wear each day. We can’t wait to fling them off as soon as we get home, and banish them until we have to regroup our breasts again by two, the next day, and strap them in once again, in their rightful place.

On a women’s retreat last year in Tulum, Mexico we had the sensual experience of using Mayan clay all over our bodies. We were a group of women aged from 25 – 55. We were encouraged to remove our bikini tops. As soon as the tops came off, the self-judgments came out. Everyone voiced their inner complaints—I seem to remember the ones who didn’t take their tops off being silent.

Once we were clad in clay, from head to toe and all bits in between, there was much joy and laughter, and body celebration.

All breasts are worthy of celebration.

Rightly so.

Recently, an Arizona photographer saw her photos of breast-feeding women yanked from Facebook after many men reported them as obscene because of one nipple not blurred out! The mighty tits are flaunted in advertising, but somehow images like this are deemed distasteful when nurturing a newborn!

All breasts are tasteful.

I delighted in breastfeeding and my three daughters suckled very contented, it was pure joy to gift my offspring with this nurturing nectar. I honour my breasts for being that on tap nutrition.

Two decades on, the geography of my breasts and nipple position has changed. My mammary glands have taken a down turned position. My headlights are more on low beam now. My nipples are not as perky or shining straight out from under my clothing. If you kneel down you will get a better view now days, but this is not an invitation.

My confession: I spend the same amount of time aligning my nipples before going out as I do styling my hair.

I try more for high to middle beam if I can—lopsided is not my thing.

Occasionally, I wish I had smaller boobs, and then I see the voluptuousness that they are and I stop wishing for anything different than what I have. Today (and tomorrow and the day after that) I am celebrating mine as they are.

Applauding my beautiful mammary glands for all that they are and all they have been, and all that they’ve done. They are all mine.

I invite you to celebrate yours, my bosom buddies. And invite your partner to do so too.

Celebrate your breasts as they are and as they are not.

Relephant: 

An Open Letter To Women’s Breasts.

Author: Lulu Trevena

Editor: Renée Picard

Image: elephant archives