I knew it was coming. Bubba is 2.5yo after all, and she couldn’t be a weird bitty nomming adult, but I’m still surprised and saddened by her sudden nonchalance regarding my boobs.

No more titty drink before bed. No more titty drink just because she’s tired. No more titty drink for extra close one-on-one snuggles. Bubba is a big girl now, and if it’s not something she can do herself then she doesn’t want to know about it.

When I weaned Weasel I felt guilty. I cut her off on purpose, because one day I literally couldn’t be bothered rolling over towards her. “Too sleepy, you’re about to turn 2, go find a sippy cup and leave me be”. So she did. That guilt was why I let Bubba continue until she felt like stopping. Now I feel guilty for not offering them when she’s hopping into bed and saying goodnight. She made the choice to give them up, and I have to respect that – not run after her, flapping them around and begging her to love me again.

Sad mummy with sad boobies.

Almost overnight my boobs went from sustenance to visual fun bumps, and now I catch men perving at them.  Hello, my eyes are up here! Yes, they’re a bit rounder and swollen than they were last week when they were functional. They now have a minor backlog of milky snacky treats, and perhaps an extra helping of chocolate. But that doesn’t mean they’re open for alternate business. Hey men, go admire my ankles and the turn of my wrist like you would have in times of old, and leave my poor boobs to grieve.

A sad, sexy cow