Bound

"... you'll want to pump a little once in awhile to relieve the discomfort and then keep them bound so that the milk supply is not able to replenish itself."

Just the advice made my eyes water. This advice came from the doctor I saw yesterday down in Mill Creek. I've been in the process of weaning Ben now from nursing for weeks longer than originally planned. He could care less but ONE of my two breasts will not have it! About a week ago, or so I imagine, an infection set in and has only been getting worse. I awoke yesterday morning to severe pain and an overall feeling of aches and chills. It was evident that Mastitis had set in and I only needed to go to the doctor to confirm what I believed was true and receive an antibiotic... I truly didn't know it was this painful.

If you've nursed before, you can imagine that engorgement feeling, couple it with a 'needle-like'/itchy sensation all over , top that with an Ace bandage wrapped until your melons reduce to the size of empty Capri Suns and try to fall asleep for the night. If you'd like, you can close your eyes and imagine the fantastic picture of my arms up in the air as if surrendering (please imagine one rotation of the Ace bandage already completed) and spinning whilst Kyle pulls at a 45 degree angle and pins the bandage in place. I now resemble the pear shape that I've always striven for. My hips continue to hold their "womanly" shape... my stomach has flattened back to its original "angle" although the texture fools no one that I've had my share of children... and then my chest. What chest? I have been bound and now have taken on the image of someone half way through their sex change operation. I look like a young boy. Sick. I walk off with a smug look on my face and put on a pair of Kyle's boxers (how appropeau, eh?) and slip into a long tank top. Walking back past the mirror I almost puke... poor Kyle, waiting there in bed for his prepubescent boy of a wife to slide in next to him.



I am on my 2nd day of being bound as I type this. I have had little to no luck of expressing anything and am now getting past the denial stage that I will forever be a B/C cup. The kids are beautiful, the husband's fantastic and over the top adoring of me... maybe the manly image I've somewhat come to adopt isn't so bad.

Cheers to raisins and Craisins and empty Capri Suns!