If there’s one thing I hate about pregnancy is the nipples.
My God, the nipples.
I’d try to get all creative on yo ass but I think I said it best in a post I wrote for Being Pregnant called Nipples And Areolas and Montgomery’s Tubercles, Oh My!
Nipples like Tootsie Rolls. Areolas the size of dinner plates. Seriously. I’m talking you could eat Grandma’s pot roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn and green beans offa these bad boys.
The boobs, they’re horrifying.
Areolas gaining ground like Sherman’s march across Atlanta.
Good news, though! My boobs are back to normal albeit a slight bit saggier. But only a slight bit! And the nipples have retreated, back to their normal positioning.
There is hope for your nipples, ladies!
During my first pregnancy Serge and I took a birthing class at the hospital at which I’d give birth. When the teacher opened the floor for questions, my hand shot up and – in front of a room full of embarrassed men and totally interested women – asked when my nipples would go back to normal. Or would they, like, keep taking over until they covered the entire breast area? And then continue their march, expanding up my chest and down my ribcage until my body was one giant nipple?
The teacher said they’d go back to normal. But, looking at my dinner plate nipples at the time, I couldn’t imagine how they’d ever resemble my pre-baby nipples… and yet, they eventually did.
The same thing happened with Henry. How can they possibly shrink back to normal, I’d wonder in alarm. And yet they have.
It is a good day.