Why Victoria’s Secret Lost My Business (A Post About Boobs)

SOURCE. I love this shot, although I don't recommend nursing in a stream because... slippery.

SOURCE. I love this shot, although I don’t recommend nursing in a stream because… slippery.

I am nearing the end of my third year of breastfeeding. That’s right, I am going to talk about boobs today, so you know, if you don’t want to read about that, go somewhere else, it’s all good… no judgies. This is for us girls, or I guess supportive Dads too who want to huzzah on our behalf.

Three years of nursing has left my boobs a bit saggy, inches below where they were on my wedding day. And that’s okay, because I am amazing and my body is amazing. It has done for my children what God created it to do, and it has been a hard, tear-filled, beautiful growing experience for me.

It started off rocky with latching issues and tears but now I am pretty much a pro, if I do say so myself…

Nursing has taught me things about motherhood that it would have taken years for me to learn otherwise. (I am not judging anyone with this post, I am just talking about me and my unique journey, cool?)

So anyway, this morning I stepped out of the shower and shimmied on my trusty Target brand nursing cami, dreaming of the day when I could return to a life of under wire and perkiness…. and shopping at Victoria’s Secret.

The sweet mecca for those of us who love an under-wire bra that lasts…

Then it hit me. 

Why doesn’t Victoria’s Secret sell nursing bras and attire?

Their whole business is boobs and although breasts are generally referenced as a flashy asset, what they are really for… is feeding the tiny humans of this world.

At least primarily… I’m fine with their secondary purposes and hoisting them up to feel good about your body. I fully intend to so do when my nursing journey comes to an end.

I raced to my computer to ask the Google, surely I am wrong. Would a women’s underwear store really sell to women who aren’t using their boobs for babies?

But a sea of results confirmed it. Victoria doesn’t have anything for the nursing mamas.

But…. they are in the breast business, this is what they DO and yet for women who are using their breasts for their intended purpose, they offer nothing? Not even a few non-fun flesh colored bras with snaps for their loyal customers in need?

They literally, in every sense of the word, do not support nursing women.

This is similar to an auto parts store only selling wax and air fresheners when what you really need is a spark plug.

Dear God, I have no business using automobile references.

They could do so much for us if only they applied their fun patterns and styles to help out the leaky mamas who want to feel sexy AND feed a baby.

But, alas… at some point they made a decision not to…. I mean surely it crossed a VS executive mind at some point.

And so, Vickie used to have all my under attire business. She was there for me in college, on my wedding day, and every day in-between. I was a huge fan of the 5 for $25 underwear deal, although in the past few years I have felt like if my booty wasn’t on it’s way to a frat party, it didn’t fit Vickie’s offerings.

I am not an angel, I am not a runway model… and sadly, at the end of the day, Victoria’s Secret has proved to be a fair weather friend.

And so I say farewell to the striped pink bags, fragrant shelves of perfume, free panty coupons and the cute blondes in black suits with measure tapes around their necks.

I cannot give you my business, because it has become clear to me that you are not interested in providing products for real women, or at least not for me.

So, I guess I am in search of a new retailer with whom to entrust my … assets.

I hear Soma is good, I think I will check them out.

I am open to suggestions…


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Yesterday I got an email from our Insurance office, that looked a little like spam but also kind of authentic. So I called the number and it was a real person on the other end of the line. Our office needed our new contact info and we had neglected to update them on addresses and phone numbers. So she googled me, and found my blog, and read my story, and asked… “Do you still write on there?”

Ummm… sometimes…

At first it felt like a coincidence… and then a kick in the pants.

I have been hiding. I have, it’s just time to admit it.

This is not one of those posts that I am doing drafts of guys, this is just happening really quickly before someone wakes up for school… for which we need to leave in less than an hour.

Last week my dear grandma passed away due to heart troubles.
This past Monday my Dad would have been 60
This past Tuesday marked the five year anniversary of my Mom’s passing.

I’ve been busy, I’ve been sick with Mastitis … I’ve been hiding and using a lot of really valid excuses not to think about any of it at all.

I can’t write about it because the timing isn’t just right… I’m not at the right coffee shop, the baby is probably going to wake up soon or I’m just too tired.

I haven’t been praying about it because I’m not sure where I stand with God…

I haven’t been talking with friends about it because I am pretty sure they are sick of hearing me whine or talk about what’s wrong in my life.

I haven’t been processing any of it, I’ve been watching TV and hiding.

And here is the thing, the hiding doesn’t feel good, in fact just the opposite. The more I hide, the worse I feel, the more TV I binge on… the less I feel like myself.

funny, true, a little pinchy...

funny, true, a little pinchy…

The depression, the loneliness, the guilt, the grief, they’re all sitting on the couch with me, watching Hulu and waiting for their moment.

When I think about the person that my Dad, Mom and Grandma raised me to be, I’m pretty sure that TV binging and obsessing over laundry didn’t make their short list.

They saw in me the seeds God planted when he formed me. The prayed for me daily, and they meant it.

They didn’t pray… Lord may she watch a lot of Netflix and always have all the socks folded.

It’s okay to hide for a while, until you start to loathe yourself. Then it’s time to put the remote in the drawer and do the hard work of sorting through your life for better … or for worse.

While I was surfing Facebook on my nightly social media loop (which indicates a downward spiral signifying I should GO TO BED ALREADY) I saw this on my former Pastor’s Facebook page.


Some of my suffering has made me better, more open minded and tuned in… but lately?

Nope. Bitter, closed, and completely unaware and ungrateful for the gifts in my life.

Ignoring those gifts quite completely in fact.

So with this cup of coffee and this messy blog post, I seek to change that, to put all my fears and pain and worries on the table and figure out what to do with them. Pray, journal, read a book about it…. talk to an expert… talk to a friend… live this life I have been given with all it’s smooth lines and sharp corners.


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A Letter To The Families For Whom Suicide Prevention Failed


National suicide prevention awareness month is now behind us.

I haven’t engaged it at all on any social media outlets, but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t effect me.

Any time suicide becomes a popular discussion item in the news, I struggle. I struggle not only because it brings back painful memories, but because I feel like something as traumatic as suicide is hard to discuss in a tweet or Facebook post.

This does not mean that we should remain silent and I hope with all my heart that this month of awareness prevents suicide. That the hotlines help and that the resources made available pull drowning people out of the sea of depression and into vivid life.

I wish that had been the case for our family. And from my family to yours, here is what I would like to share about suicide.

For those of you who don’t know my story, my mother took her life nearly five years ago after a very long struggle with depression. She had experienced a hard road after my sister’s damaging car accident and my father’s sudden death from a heart attack.

She was tired after fighting depression for a long, long time and she had become a shell of the person God created her to be. In fact I often wonder if I ever met the person God created her to be, my memories of her are more her illness than the person underneath it.

And then suddenly she was gone through a gruesome and bold death of her own choosing. Now it’s a part of our story, her story, my story, my family’s story and a really hard story I will someday have to tell my children.

The problem I have had with this month of suicide talk on social media is that, as I said above, it is really hard to have a real, gritty discussion about something so complex as suicide in a Facebook status. So, for better or for worse, here are a few thoughts I had, but didn’t share this September and I am going to share them as an open letter to the families for whom prevention did not work.

(These are just MY thoughts on suicide, my own personal reflections, if you are considering suicide, call a professional or reach out to a friend. I never, ever endorse suicide as a good idea. If you have no one to call, please call the suicide hotline at 1 (800) 273-8255)

Dear friend,

I am so sorry that your best efforts to save your loved one didn’t work, mine failed as well. Likewise I am sorry that the word suicide now carries such dreadful weight in your story, it always seemed to me like a distant thing that happened “out there” and not in my own family. Yet here we are, sitting with the massive darkness, trying to make sense of it all.

I’d like to hear your story, to listen as one who understands and who will nod without gasping, I know how hard it can be to tell new friends about your loss. It happens to me too. Does the memory of what happened flash in your mind at odd moments? Like suddenly you’re in the pickup line of your kids school or brushing your teeth and you imagine it happening in vivid detail?

I have that, I hate it. It’s an awful image to shake.

Can I confess something to you? When my mom died I felt 98% sad and shocked and 2% relieved, because so much of my life revolved around worrying about her, trying to take care of her and then feeling unspeakably frustrated and angry when my interventions failed. I couldn’t help her, she was in this unreachable place that couldn’t be touched by counseling, meds or even joyful moments of life.

I don’t understand how she could leave me, and my kids. She left with one grandchild on the way, in the middle of planning her son’s wedding. I will never understand why we weren’t enough joy for her to stick around. I know this is because I don’t understand the darkness of her illness, it’s really hard for those of us left behind to understand how our loved ones were feeling.

Does it help you to talk about what really happened with people or do you prefer to keep it buried?

They tell me that my Mom wasn’t the one who acted that night, the night she killed herself, they tell me it was the depression who did it, not her. I think I believe that, usually I do.

Either way I start to hyperventilate around trains, and I can’t really bring myself to drive over the train tracks where she took her life without panicking and going into a dark space in my mind. I hate that, I just want to feel normal. I want a normal story and I hate that suicide gets to play such a huge role in how both of our stories get told.

I don’t know exactly how you are feeling, but in the broader sense I get it. I hope that you are able to find friends who will sit with you as your spend a lifetime sifting through the aftershock of what happened.

I hope that you can forgive your loved one, or whatever it looks like for you to find freedom from it, I pray that you can find a space where you can admit it happened in your life but that it doesn’t become you.

I don’t understand why our prayers didn’t work, I don’t understand why God intervenes sometimes and other times he doesn’t. I admit that suicide has to do with depression and sickness and that God grieves it too.

And I don’t think that suicide keeps you out of heaven, I have a lot of thoughts on this that I don’t really dare share on the internet.

There are a lot of things I don’t understand about suicide, far more than I do understand. But I believe that talking about it helps, that sharing our stories brings us a power to overcome them. So here I am, feel free to share your story with me in this space or on facebook, I will respond in love,


Leanne Penny.


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