In case I haven’t made myself extremely clear previously, I like breasts. I married into quite possibly the best pair on the planet, after all.
In general, breasts epitomize the aesthetic beauty of the female form and the sex appeal that comes with that form. As John Eldredge wrote, “My wife flashes me a little breast… and I’m ready for action. All systems alert.” The form has an undeniable effect.
However, they have a unique ability — at least to me — to abandon half that form when they begin to function.
The image was beautiful, and powerfully so, but in a way like the mountains of Alaska are beautiful. I’d find myself struck by it, but not aroused by it.
Ultimately, the breasts are for babies, and they do this wonderful plumping like Ball Park franks when they do their work. And as they do, their beauty expands accordingly. Yet this is not the narrow scope of sex appeal, per se. Rather, the general brand of feminine beauty expands, much like the pregnant belly does.
So while I’m intensely aroused by my pregnant or breastfeeding wife, it’s actually an attraction that is so much bigger than sensuality. Her motherhood is womanly and has a raw feminine magnetism, and I’m helpless to resist.
What is fascinating is how this works outside my marriage. At a time when I was struggling with lust issues, a glimpse of a breast or especially an areola in the world around me or on a computer screen would get me riled. Yet strangely enough, a nursing breast or a breast over a visibly pregnant belly lacked the same sex appeal. The image was beautiful, and powerfully so, but in a way like the mountains of Alaska are beautiful. I’d find myself struck by it, but not aroused by it.
It’s strange. When they function, their form transforms.
It’s no different now that I’m more under control of my lustful desires. One of my favorite pictures of my wife is of her nursing our firstborn just after he was born, and it’s so nonsexual to me I had to be reminded that it’s not a photo to share with the public at large. And when I see a woman nursing out in the world, I’m touched but in no way aroused.
There’s something more pure — more natural— going on than sexuality. Is that weird?
Originally posted 2016-01-04 08:00:42.