My saggy tits are typing this

When did we start putting our body's aesthetic over the needs of our babies?

I'm sitting on the sofa, eyes locked on the Dorito in my hand - that perfect little triangle, crispy and dusted with just the right amount of flavour. I lift it to my mouth, poised for the perfect crunch. Alas, I bite down confronted by my deflated air bags. They’re draped across the crisp. Two saggy tits. "Destroyed" by pregnancy. "Ruined" by breastfeeding. I blink, deflated as my tatas, and wonder... Will snack time ever be the same again?

I'm rushing about getting ready for the nursery run. Suddenly I’m pulled back, yanked by the door handle, not because of a caught cardigan. Oh no, those days are gone. It’s the saggy tits. Wrapped around the cold brass in their latest act of defiance. I blink. I wonder. Will rushing ever be the same again?

I’m in my kitchen. Making coffee. I traipse back upstairs to my laptop, back to the word document I was mid-way through writing. There I see it “xxxxxxxxxxxxxxkjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjdshssssssssssssssssssssss” recurring. Was it the cat? The toebeans of terror? Oh no, those days are long gone. It’s the saggy tits, at it again. Resting across the keys. I blink. I wonder. Will writing ever be the same again?

What is this apocalyptic hellscape I hear you cry?

It’s that which awaits women who dare to use their bodies for what they're designed for – according to some on the internet (and unfortunately, in real life).

Saggy tits. In the way. Ruining your life.

Absolute chaos. Society will crumble. The world will end.

A video of an influencer – granted, it was tongue in cheek – speaking about her concerns if she has a child. The point of contention? Her boobs.

She’d had two boob jobs you see. They are, in her words “perfect”, “McLaren engineering”. So she’s worried. Worried that having a baby would be like “letting someone who’d just passed their test drive a McLaren”.

The comments came.

“Had mine 10 years. Didn't want to breast feed because I didn't want to ruin them. I worked hard and paid a lot of money for them. Fed is best. Doesn’t matter how”

“2 babies was lucky not to get a stretch mark but your foof will look like a teenager has just smashed a McLaren”

“I can confirm pregnancy and breastfeeding absolutely ruins them”

“They'll ruin more than your breasts hun”

“Possibly not the first body parts they'll ruin”

“Probably end up with a couple of flat tyres”

“McLarens to Renaults”

"McLaren to micra... Do they need breast milk nowadays, surely they have organic pure formula these days, save the bitty"

Whew… I know.

The influencer herself didn’t bother me all that much. She’s making content – she’s known for being a bit outlandish, and was also likely trying to be funny. But the comments from everyday people – no – everyday WOMEN – had me a bit… Well, like this:

When did we get to a place where a woman's greatest fear about having a baby isn't whether they'll be healthy, or whether she'll be a good mother, or whether she'll cope with the sleepless nights - but whether pregnancy will affect her appearance?

When did we start putting our body's aesthetic over the needs of our babies?

Because, and hear me out here… What if the shape of your tits is actually the least of your concerns? What if they change shape and instead of the world combusting into milk flooded drudgery… Absolutely nothing happens.

What if you just… Live your life… Eat your Doritos… Rush about… Write your emails… Pull your postpartum hair out… Wonder if you’ll ever have a clean bikini line again… And your slightly different shaped boobs has zero impact on any of it?

To caveat - none of this is about shaming mothers who formula feed. The issue isn't with individual feeding choices - it's with a culture that's convinced women their appearance should factor into those choices at all.

The problem is when we frame breastfeeding as optional because it might affect how we look, not because of legitimate health concerns, supply issues, or personal circumstances.

When saving the appearance of your tits becomes a reason to avoid what our bodies are designed to do, we've let aesthetic concerns override biological function in a way that benefits no one - especially not our children.

I paid a lot of money for my boobs

Let's start with this comment, because it perfectly encapsulates how we've been taught to view our bodies. Not as functional, miraculous vessels that can create and sustain life, but as investments - not in the good way, like keeping yourself healthy and happy, but keeping yourself pretty, sexy, physically appealing. Like a purchase.

This woman has spent money on her breasts. She views them as assets. And now she's being asked to choose between maintaining those assets and feeding her child the optimal nutrition designed specifically for them.

And she's choosing the investment – the assets. Each to their own, as I say, I’m not here to shame other women, but I do think it’s part of a bigger conversation…

One where the question becomes - when did we start teaching women that their bodies are commodities to be maintained rather than the wonders that they are - those that grow and nurture whole human beings. When did we convince them that their aesthetic value trumps their biological function?

Do they even need breast milk anymore?

Hmmmm… Actual footage of me…

This one had me in real ‘what the fuckerment??’

We've become so disconnected from our bodies' natural biological functions that we genuinely question whether they're necessary anymore. Not to mention the cow emoji… Apparently milk that’s tailored for a baby cow makes more sense than having milk that’s tailored specifically for them.

But to answer the question - do babies need breast milk anymore? Or to put it another way, do they need a living, adapting substance that changes based on their very unique needs? Something that changes its composition throughout the same day depending on what the saliva on that baby’s tongue tells the mother’s body. Do they need that?

Hmmmm… Is this a rhetorical question?

When your baby is fighting an infection, your milk produces antibodies. When they're growing, the fat content adjusts. It carries enzymes to aid digestion, probiotics to nurture a healthy gut, and hormones that regulate appetite and sleep. It’s a personalised pharmacy crafted by millions of years of evolution - a nutritionist, immune system, and medicine cabinet all rolled into one.

When we tell women to prioritise their aesthetic over their baby's needs, suddenly this evolutionary marvel becomes optional, replaceable old-fashioned even.

When did we start thinking we could improve on millions of years of evolution because it might affect our tit shape?

And more than that, why are we assuming that a woman's appearance is more important than her baby's optimal nutrition? That "saving the bitty" (how's that for reducing breasts to their sexual function only) is worth depriving a child of antibodies, perfectly calibrated nutrition, and the bonding that comes with breastfeeding?

They’re not the only body parts they’ll ruin

"Ruin." Whew, what a word.

Are pregnancy and breastfeeding acts of vandalism performed on our bodies? You’d think so with this rhetoric.

Yes, your body changes after pregnancy. Yes, things might not sit exactly where they used to. But when did we start viewing these changes as damage rather than evidence of what our bodies accomplished?

When did we start seeing stretch marks as flaws instead of proof that our skin expanded to accommodate new life? Why are we viewing post-pregnancy breasts as "ruined" instead of recognising them as organs that successfully nourished a human being?

When did we start putting our body's aesthetic over the needs of our babies to the point where we see their nourishment as an inconvenience?

It’s wild to me.

None of this is happening in a vacuum

We can tut at the women writing these things. Shake our heads and feel dismay. But they are a product of a society that profits from women's insecurities about their bodies.

The beauty industry makes billions by convincing us that our natural bodies aren't good enough.

Pregnancy and breastfeeding threaten this narrative. They show us what our bodies are actually capable of when we stop seeing them as ornaments and start seeing them for what they really are.

A woman who's proud of her post-pregnancy body is less likely to buy the products. She’s less likely to get the procedures. She doesn't play the game.

So society works harder to convince her that any evidence of having children should be erased as quickly as possible. That "bouncing back" is the goal and that looking exactly the same as before she grew an entire human being is somehow... normal. (It’s not).

I spent the entirety of my life trying to make myself smaller.

Smaller portions, smaller clothes, smaller space in the world.

Then pregnancy came, and for the first time in my life I didn’t want to shrink. I was desperate to get bigger. I celebrated every pound gained. It meant my baby was growing.

When my son was born, I felt an overwhelming love for the body that had carried him safely and brought him to me. I actually felt guilt over how horrible I’d been to it up until that point.

This body I had hated on and off for decades, it had allowed me to get pregnant, it had grown my baby from scratch, it had fed my baby for 9 months while inside me, and then it was continuing when he arrived on my chest.

It had been stretched and rearranged and cut and bled and experienced what they say is the closest thing to death – and then, after all of that, it was here doing the most amazing thing. Living in the truest sense of the word. It was putting in so much work. So so much work. And I wasn’t even really having to think about it.

Now, two and a half years later, when I look at my body, I still feel those things. My breasts are still nourishing my son. They might not sit where they used to, and my stomach might be softer. But it’s a body that tells the story of where a human once lived. It has done the thing. The biggest, most ridiculously incredible thing. I can’t even wrap my head around it thing.

And I owe it more than shit talking in a mirror that would crack under even a fraction of the pressure it’s endured.

Your body is not a McLaren. McLarens are built in factories by machines. Your body built a human being from scratch - bones, blood, brain, and teeny tiny finger nails. It moved your heart, shifted your lungs, stretched your ribs, and rearranged your organs. And it did it all while you were sleeping, living, being.

Nothing that powerful should look the same afterward.

If ‘ruined’ looks like creating life and feeding it then maybe we need a new definition.