“Could you stop touching your boob?” My husband gave me a sour look, and I couldn’t help but return it. “How would you like it if I just repositioned my stuff all out in public?” I huffed, frowned, and snapped my hands to my side.
This was probably the 3rd time I have had this question from my husband in a short period. True, we were with friends, and in public, but honestly it wasn’t my intention to embarrass my husband or my friends. At this point I find that touching my breasts is almost second nature, and done completely without thought. Basically I’m checking to see how “full” each one is. Usually when I get the urge to do so it’s been about 90 minutes to two hours since my last nursing session, and it’s eating time for my son. There is almost a tingling, or pulling down, sensation. The most natural response is to cup and lift each breast to see how heavy they are. There is nothing conscious about it. It’s not a tactical move, I just do it. That doesn’t, however, stop my husband’s ears from burning with embarrassment. He usually whispers to me threats that he can do the same, in a matter of speaking.
But really, is a man rearranging his gonads comparable to me touching my breasts? I’ve insisted to him that it’s two completely different things. Breastfeeding women are touching to see if there is a high content in the breasts as a sign that it’s time to get some liquid out, while a man touching his gonads….
OK, you can see where my argument went wrong. Still, I insisted that I wasn’t doing it on purpose, and that is really wasn’t such a big deal, and most people probably didn’t even notice a quick check.
So, I was wrong about that too. Recently I was sitting at a red light when I looked over to the driver on the left of me. A 20-something year old guy was sitting there, a wisp of dusty blond hair flicked over his forehead, mouth agape. I instantly got outraged. What the heck was he staring at? Then I realized, I was squeezing my boob and he was watching. The look on his face wasn’t that of a pervert, it was that of a guy who was about to text a friend and go ‘You’d never guess what I just saw at the light?’
Instead of getting embarrassed myself, I simply took my foot off the break and pushed down quickly onto the accelerator when the light changed. I mean, who cares really–I’ll never see that guy again.
The incident did help me realize though that maybe, just maybe, my hubby is right: I unconsciously check myself too much in public. Am I weird? Am I the only one? I couldn’t be. Either way, I have to stop. Someone is going to call the cops on the couple whose wife is lifting up her boob while the husband rearranging his junk. That wouldn’t be a good look.