Coming Back to Our Breasts: A Love Story

In my photoshoots with women, there’s one thing that comes up again and again — and it always touches me deeply. So many women don’t like their breasts. And I get it, because for a long time, I felt the same. Too small. Too big. Too saggy. Too uneven. Too something. Never quite right.

Even the women who we’d call “perfect” in the eyes of society often don’t feel connected to their own breasts. The disconnection runs deep — almost invisible, yet so present.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized how much this needed to change — inside me, and around me. I want to love my breasts. I want to appreciate them. And I want to live in a world where we all get to experience that.

I know how uncomfortable it can feel to talk about these things out loud. There's so much shame and heaviness wrapped up in this part of our bodies. But someone has to speak — to open the door to a more honest, more tender, more real conversation. So I guess this is me, cracking that door open.

Because in a culture that no longer honors the divine within, breasts have become something to look at instead of something to feel into.

They attract the eye, not the soul. They are dissected, judged, molded, and praised — but rarely loved. No wonder so many of us feel disconnected. No wonder we try to fix what was never broken in the first place. We live in a society of women who are unhappy with their breasts. And I don’t think it’s really about the shape, the size, or the skin. It’s about the fact that we’ve forgotten what breasts truly are.

Breasts are sensual. Soft. Wild. Erotic. Loving. Healing. Real.

They hold some of the most delicious, nurturing energy a human body can hold.

They are an extension of the heart.

They are a place of nourishment, of intimacy, of sacredness.

They are not supposed to be flawless. They are supposed to be felt.

I understand why some women choose surgery. I truly do. And I’ll never judge that choice. But it makes me sad that we live in a world that so often leads us to that point — that makes us feel like we need to cut ourselves open to feel comfortable in our own skin.

What would it be like to live in a culture that celebrated wild breasts? Loving breasts? Sensual, wholesome, passionate breasts — breasts that are expressions of the most sacred, feminine essence?

Breasts with stories. With curves. With stretch marks. With soul.

I’m still on this journey myself. Still learning to look at my chest with softness instead of critique. Still reconnecting to this part of my body as something worthy of love — not because it looks a certain way, but because it feels like home.

And I hope, in my work and in my words, I can offer other women a safe space to begin that journey too.

To feel their breasts.

To honor them.

To come back to them.

To say: You are mine. You are beautiful. You are sacred. I’m so glad you’re here.