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What Do Your Breasts Mean?



I mean as for my breast association, it wasn’t so positive until I experienced a nipple orgasm LAAAWWD HAM MERCY!! I didn’t even know that was possible! (deep breath) I guess my breastesses have been sleep for quite some time!!! The awesome part is I experienced this during a table session….there was nothing sexual involved..well….. maybe some of that Kundalini energy! Lol. Yaaaaaaassssss!!!! (snaps fingers)


I remember this group back in my school days we had the girls with the “Big Breastesses” and the “Itty Bitty Tittie Committee”.  There’s a crazy section in my life when one of my male best friends….became my best friend…because he would get his cousin to hold me still as he would grab my breast and run…Yeah I know that sounds dysfunctional…but it happened. There are tribes that have certain rules that a man is not to even TOUCH a woman’s breast after she’s had a baby because the milk inside was so sacred. I have one client of mine who just recently was diagnosed with breast cancer…but she’s doing fine now (Thank Goodness). My point is, breasts means something different to each person, just like all of our breasts have a different story attached to them. Some have a positive association and some negative.


For me, although I wasn’t breastfed, my mother always cuddled me on her breast. My grandmother did as well. Breasts to me are nurturing. I will be 33 in May and I STILL love cuddling with my mother to lay on those breastesses. I fall asleep every time. There are women who look at me as their niece or baby sister and yep…during our sister embrace I cuddle right on those breastesses…and there’s NOTHING sexual about it. I am in no way sexually interested in women, it’s just that women who carry a certain vibration can put a grown ass adult on those breasts and make them go fast asleep or feel safe and nurtured. I ain’t lying..There’s a lot of companies out here that offer platonic cuddling as service. It may sound weird, but no lie many of us running around here with an attitude because we’re touch deprived.




I wanted to share the story of my Tantrica Sister Felicia. She works with women dealing with body image and she’s an awesome business woman…..and fam..her breast are HUGE and BEAUTIFUL. Just because they are big and beautiful however, doesn’t mean we have to associate them with sex all of the time.  There’s very much a spiritual connection and significance with our breast. In my class we learn that breast can project certain energy/vibes/aura/spirit…etc…we learn this in our healing works. Many of my male clients who feel rejected or abandoned, I project from my breast or I may hug them like a mother would a small child. Breasts are so awesome…SO BE SURE TO GET THOSE DEER EXERCISES POPPIN AND LET’S GET THESE BABIES ACTIVATED!!!

I just want to thank this sister for sharing her story. I also want to thank any man who reads this so that you can further appreciate the divinity in us as we do you.

[trx_title type=”4″ align=”center” color=”#000000″]Big Breasts – A Hate Story Transformed[/trx_title]

“In 1977, the Commodores released what went on to become a mega hit song called “Brick House.” The hook went:
Ah she’s a brick house
What a winning hand

Me, I was 9-years old when that song came out. I remember it vividly because I had those measurements, except my hips were 2 inches bigger. I was 36-24-38 and 5’5”, but still a 9- year old kid in 4th grade. What exactly did I win? I “won” the attention of both boys and girls feeling entitled to grab my breasts and hips and run before I could catch them. I “won” kids looking under my bathroom stall while I changed into PE clothes. Girls invited me to slumber parties so my body could become a topic of conversation.  I “won” grown men staring at me inappropriately, and even asking me out for dates, until my father went ape shit and ran them off.


My grandmother told me I had permission to chase down and kick the ass of anyone who touched my body without permission. She even gave me kicking lessons on how to kick boys in the nuts for grabbing my breasts. So then, as a trained nuts kicker, I began my era of fighting. I went from a good student who showed up during snow storms, to being absent due to fighting suspensions – all due to my body. I was counseled to dress differently (e.g. covered) even though other girls my age could wear summer clothes appropriate for the heat. I was told to stop playing with boys which meant I could no longer play at all because boys and girls played together in elementary school. So, I became a reclusive, isolated, loner sitting on the sidelines in hot clothes. That is what young girls “win” when their body develops too quickly.


Because I can see my breasts more easily than my butt, I associated all of this oppression with my breasts. I was told to adapt, shrink, and deflect. And that I was a bad person if I defended my body with whoop ass – my preferred response to groping. From my view, the bigger the breasts the bigger the oppression. Even currently, in my profession, people seemed shocked that I can do math and have large breasts. I digress.


By high school, I figured out that if I had a big scary boyfriend, no one would grope me and I would not have to kick anyone’s ass. So, I just had to figure out which athlete would protect me and not make any sexual advances. This started a pattern of me “dating” male friends so I could appear to have a scary boyfriend. In high school, I dated the captain of both the basketball and football team, because we were friends. They looked out for me and we are still friends today.  The only problem was that we were not a real couple and barely spent time together. I was a virgin while many assumed I slept around. How could I not sleep around with that body, right? I never had a real boyfriend until I was 28 and had my first sexual experience – a very disrespectful one. Later, he told me he wanted to “cow fuck” me “like a bull” because I was his fantasy. Umm…no thanks!


So then, I was called lesbian – by both my boyfriend and select family members who could not figure out why I had no interest in getting married to a man who wanted to cow fuck. Afterall, he was cute and had a good job. What was wrong with me? That’s right, apparently wanting a husband who respects my body is some sort of psychosis. And, oh, women grope me, too. Even on my way to the retreat, the airport security lady touched my vagina 3 times during a pat down search. I lifted my skirt to show my underwear and loudly said: “there is nothing on my vagina” so she would stop. I would not marry a woman like that, either, if women were my preference.  


So, in between the declined cow fuck and lesbian offers, I have mostly had more of the same – sexless, empty relationships with men who are more friend than lover, more deflector than protector, more safe than sensual, more gone than present (workaholics), and more empty than full. I have assembled a dating history of men with groupies hanging off of their elbows. It is hard for people to believe that we rarely had sex. That I went 3 years in one of those relationships before he touched me, and even longer in other relationships. Many of my exes were in professions where women chased them. They were men tired of women aggressively coming at them sexually same as I was tired of men coming at me too sexually aggressive. We were a perfect sexless relationship fit. When we did have sex, it was mechanical and empty – easy to skip and go without. It never occurred to me, until post retreat, that my exes were only ever offered disrespectful, taking, empty, low quality sex, too.


If I try to have a real relationship, now, men look at my dating history and assume I am super sexually experienced. They then propose a new advanced version of cow fucking in the form of BDSM, me being their dominatrix, swinging, or me beating them up. I never get offers for slow, gentle, intimate sex. My “friend” boyfriends gave me intimacy in the form of hugs, backrubs and more. But, only as a sex substitute. I have only had sex and intimacy together once.

So, the nurturing ritual at the retreat was very opening for me. The man was supposed to “get comfortable” laying on me so I could speak life into him. You guessed it, he laid right on my breasts. I was very uncomfortable. I did not know him and felt the usual defensiveness surrounding that area of my body. Inside, I was hoping he would move and readjust so I would not have to focus on not being groped instead of being focused on his healing.


I am forever grateful for that experience. He just laid on my breasts as I spoke life into him. It was the first time in my life that a man was on my breasts without ever groping, sucking, rude commenting, rubbing or staring at them. He never inquired about my bra size, asked if they were real, asked how much they weigh, or had any other agenda than laying on a sacred space and treating it accordingly. It was the first time that I felt my breasts were used for nurturing. I now have a faint pleasant sensation in my breasts that replaced a dead non present lack of feeling. I usually only feel the weight and pressure of my breasts, not the subtle sensation like I have now. A table experience last year let me know that it is possible for me to orgasm from my breasts, but that is the only time I reached full arousal from my breasts.


While I never hated my breasts themselves, I very much hate the drama I endure every day based on how I decide to cover or not cover them. If I cover them “enough” people say how much weight I have gained and give me unsolicited diet tips to become more attractive. If I dress to my body, which accentuates my breasts, I am called ‘hoe’, groped, or receive ongoing sexual advances. Yes, EVERY day this is an issue.


However, post retreat, I am less offended by people wanting to look at and touch my breasts. I am reading  notes from a talk Master Yao gave May 22, 2009 where he said: “some things require male energy to change you.” I believe this respectful, honorable male energy directed towards my breasts changed my breasts. Breast attention from men and women always felt predatory prior to this experience. It has even felt predatory, on occasion, coming from babies who gave me the evil eye and started crying once they figured out I had no milk. It never occurred to me that adults derived some healing or nurturing benefit from interacting with my breasts. A desire to just feel emotion – not take in the form of a cheap thrill. In that same 5/22/09 lecture, Yao said: “love backed up inside of you that cannot come out will cause sickness and disease.”  I believe that to be true. I can also see how the taking energy surrounding breasts can exacerbate breast cancer, as well, which is on the rise in many women. Women can’t give out nurturing love to men who hypersexualize and objectify breasts.  So, I will still kick the ass of a ‘grope and run’ jerk. But, I am open to exploring more non-disrespectful giving of love via breast nurturing. Nurturing a man with my breasts did not feel like he was just trying to get off sexually from my breasts. The result, both of us were gifted with more life force.”



So what’s your breast story? Do you have a positive or negative association with (your) breast?


As for me? I will continue to honor love and adore this sacred part of my body. It nourishes, nurtures, and receives just as much pleasure as it gives and there’s nothing that gravity, stretch marks, or hyper – sexualizing them can do to stop that.


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