We've been together a long time now. I was an early bloomer and you made yourselves known at a younger age than most of my peers. I went to the department store in my small town when I was still in elementary school to buy an appropriately supportive garment for you. It seems like our relationship was mostly onesided from the start.
In junior high, I remember being teased about you. The mean girls laughed and pointed and made fun. That has stuck with me and perhaps I have been unfair to you because of it. I draped you in large baggy shirts (it was the 90s. Everyone was doing it.) and underestimated your needs for support. There really weren't sports bras then and you deserved the best. For that, I am sorry.
Even in my adulthood, I didn't appreciate you. I had to buy tops that I thought were too big just to accommodate your needs. I couldn't buy the cute lacy numbers that other girls wore, but instead spent lots of money in specialty stores to keep you outfitted properly. I may have hated you for that, and thought seriously about a breakup.
A lot has changed since I became a mother and you came into your own. I've had a lot of sleepless nights. I worry about little things and I don't always live in the real world. You, dear Girls, have been with me on this journey and have finally started giving back to me. You nourished two pretty little babies and comforted them in the middle of the night. You finally got to do everything you were made for and you did it well. Two more plump and happy babies were never seen.
And so now, Girls, your work is done. You can head out to pasture knowing that you did a job and did it well. The Dude assures me you will be in good hands. And I, for my part, promise to buy you some beautiful and expensive bras to call home.
Thank you, Girls. And happy retirement.