I think that the boob fairy must have paid a visit to our house last night. Seriously -- I was 45 minutes late today because everything I put on this morning made me look like Dolly effing Parton. (Not that I have anything against Dolly.)
I was not exactly a flat-chested girl to begin with. I started this whole infertility journey as a 34C, then grew to a 34DD via some combination of weight gain and meds. Midway through my IVF cycle, I could barely latch my bra and bought a couple of 34DDDs. And today, just about two weeks later, I am sporting the dreaded quadra-boob. (For those of you not familiar with quadra-boob, it is the phenomenon by which a too-large boob spills over a too-small cup, creating an oh-so attractive four-lumpy-boob look).
And it's not just the size. The girls HURT. It's gotten so bad that I've started wearing a sports bra to bed, because the pain of these suckers flapping around in the middle of the night actually woke me up a couple of times. Also, I am afraid of suffocating a cat under one of my loose, giant knockers.
So, here I am. Five weeks in, and my husband is already referring to the girls as "melons" (lovingly, of course -- he is a guy, after all).
My cups runneth over.