In Praise of My Tits.

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No words from me. Just this, from my daughter.

Fanny the Champion of the World

I’m quietly proud of this photograph. It was taken on holiday when our boys were about four months old, and I’d asked my husband to get a picture for posterity. It’s never been in the family album, but not because I care if people are offended by a photo of my tits doing the job they were designed for (hell, I’d tandem feed anywhere – once, I even propped up the children against my nipples on the window ledge of an overhead walkway at a service station on the M6, having fed them earlier that day during church communion.) I didn’t give a shit as long as the boys were nourished, but I simply couldn’t bear for anyone to look at the photo and think I’d chosen the hideous fabric on that sofa.

I’ve blurred out my face – not because I’m embarrassed, but because the two little generic-looking blond…

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21 thoughts on “In Praise of My Tits.”

  1. Oh Margaret, no words from me either, except you have an incredibly strong daughter and family and I absolutely don’t want to use the word brave because she absolutely won’t want it, but … I send you the biggest hug I can manage 💜

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  3. Margaret, I’ve not long started reading your blog and I’ve never ready your daughter’s at all until this post. I don’t feel I say anything that will sound genuine yet I can’t say nothing. There are indeed no words, just a horror and an anger at the random injustices of life and a wonder at the human spirit. Your daughter sounds a remarkable woman.

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  8. I’m amazed Ellie can find the words–and she has expressed the horror of this in ways that allow us to be angry and scared and feisty along with her. She’s a fighter . . .

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