I have quite a proud left breast. She generally rests quite comfortably in my cotton tagless underwire bra, filling out an entire C-cup with an almost smug perkiness. She never needed tissues, cotton, or a chicken cutlet. And if there was a boob to make any eyes turn, it was old lefty.
I remember the days when she was quite popular. Maybe it's because I dated all right-handed guys. But left boob always got a lot of loving.
So when I breastfed my daughter, I wasn't surprised when lefty became the "go-to" boob. "Old Faithful," I'd call her -- for more reasons than one. No need for manna from the heavens or the dividing of the fish and loaves among the masses. All Jesus would have needed was my one left boob. And none of his "Son of God" powers. That one boob could have sustained every single person.
And with good old left boob there was no need to use an intercom or walkie-talkie. Just give her a squeeze and she'd hit anyone square in the head from a good 200 feet.
My daughter would cough and sputter every time she latched on, but eventually, we both got used to the spray. I'd make sure to grab an extra pile of cloths and a bucket. She'd remember to turn her head away. And it was like magic.
But my son hasn't taken to lefty. I can't be sure why -- maybe it's because she's all used up. Or maybe he can sense her arrogance. And so, he refuses to eat from her. Backwards, upside down, any which way you put it, he doesn't want anything to do with her.
And all of a sudden, righty is perking up. Hooray for the underdog, left to fend for herself under mounds of padding. From his mouth to my right boob, a comeback is being made. And lefty is left to the breast pump -- hard suctioned plastic and ziploc bag. He'll only take her at night time or in the sling, when he can't tell the difference between her and any other boob that might pass by his nose. But even then when she starts to rear up and fire, he turns his nose down (probably so he doesn't get milk in it).
I sort of feel bad for old lefty. But her revenge is sweet because almost everyday I walk around with lovely milkstains halfway down my shirt. And I'm more lopsided than ever. Except now instead of holding her nose high in the air, it's slowly starting to point downward.