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My days of worrying about my boobs and bra and all that were far behind me.
Especially after having a child and gravity flirting with me in an inevitable way.
I touched my stomach and swallowed hard.
There were more curves to my body now than…
When, Sage? Huh? What timeframe are you exactly comparing yourself to right now?
I clenched my teeth together tight.
I had no clue what I was doing right then but I couldn’t stop myself.
Small, scar-like ripples of stretch marks tattooed my stomach.
Not really visible unless you were looking hard enough.
My belly button had been a proper O shape, but was more of a standing oval.
My hips were round.
That part I never figured out.
It just sort of happened and stayed like that.
My panties were black.
Boring
No frills. No lace. No sexy design.
Just boring, old mom panties.
I looked at the door and swallowed hard.
I shook my head.
The door was locked.
I was alone.
I needed to get dressed.
For a funeral.
For my grandfather’s funeral.
I reached back and twisted the clasp on my bra.
The hooks gave way too easily, proving that this was indeed my favorite one to wear.
As I tossed my bra to the bed I caught myself looking in the mirror again.
This time at my bare breasts.
While my nipples didn’t exactly point forward and up a little, I still thought everything looked great. I arched my back a little and took a deep breath. Staring at my body in the mirror.
Fighting my imagination from going too far…
