For as long as I can remember, my mother has been pleasantly plump, and I like her that way. Now that I'm older and more health-conscious, I get on her to eat right and exercise, but I still believe that it's important for a mother to not be too skinny. I've always looked at kids with scrawny mothers with pity; nothing in the world is more reassuring than being snuggled and stroked against a mother's ample bosom.
I wasn't blessed with Mom's double-EE's, but I continue to use this principle to justify an extra helping now and then - I can't be too thin, for the kids' sake. Think of how Madonna's poor children suffer; Guy Ritchie said her uber-fit body felt like cuddling up to a piece of gristle, so what can she offer in the case of a nightmare or skinned knee?
Unfortunately, times have changed, and in a cruel twist of fate, Mom's bosom has turned against us. After decades of practical and aesthetic service, these beloved breasts have turned to the dark side; a cancerous, one-centimeter tumor was detected via mammogram. Just as quickly, we have turned against the tatas; we invoke the "Breast Doctrine:" they have chosen to harbor and give aid to terrorist cells, so we bombed the shit out of them. A double mastectomy has hopefully removed both her breasts and the threat of breast cancer.
Mom looks different after her surgery. Her large breasts have been replaced by some frankly adorable budding bumps, the result of half-filled skin expanders that pave the way for future reconstructive implants. By Christmas she will have the high, shapely knockers of an eighteen-year old girl, in any size she desires. In fact, we've joked that Dad put her up to the whole thing (but only for a minute, because although cancer can be humorous, parental sex is never funny.)
It turns out that (in this case) size doesn't matter. I enjoyed my mother's original full-figured frame for a good long time, but I don't miss it one bit. I assume that she's choosing reconstructive surgery will help her feel normal, womanly, and attractive. I'll support her decision, but it makes no difference to me. Flat, round, lumpy or gristly -- I've learned that it isn't the size and shape of the embrace that's important; ample comes from what's inside.
Won't Lourdes, Rocco, and David be relieved...