Aniviashirt - Scuba Dive Diver Down Flag Vintage Diving Gear Shirt

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I wanted to have both, though. The GIRL growing inside my belly and the Scuba Dive Diver Down Flag Vintage Diving Gear Shirt Besides,I will do this GIRL that doesn’t want to let go of unleashing unpredictable strokes. Ditte Reffstrup dancing on the tables or writhing on the floor to Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” at many Ganni after-parties comes to mind. I wanted to hold onto the latter with all my might. If that GIRL showed any signs of dissipating and disappearing into worries about potty training forums or primary school catchment areas, in my mind, that meant I would have to say goodbye to the me that used to, say, stay up all night in Tokyo and go from restaurant to Golden Gai bar to Shibuya Karaoke room to another bar and end up in Tsukiji market eating sushi for breakfast. Can you be both those people? Do I want to suppress GIRL in favor of MUM? After Nico was born and she did that most innate thing as dictated to us by biology, which was to instinctively crawl up to my nipple to feed, I somehow knew I couldn’t have my entire being consumed by her. My whole self couldn’t just be one giant nipple. And for me, that sense of self was intrinsically tied to being GIRL.

Trying to preserve that inner GIRL can be tough though. You’ll give in to those tidal waves of love you feel for this person you birthed. You’ll be consumed and obsessed to the Scuba Dive Diver Down Flag Vintage Diving Gear Shirt Besides,I will do this point where I’d order every single possible thing under the sun that would help her sleep better/be clothed better/poop better/feed better. Stuff for the sake of stuff. You’ll talk to her in caricature baby voices. You’ll sing lullabies but not know the lyrics.  I turned to the most immediate thing of getting back to GIRL. Finding myself through my clothes was my own biological breast crawl. Skin to skin. The layers that have always emoted and accompanied my life stages. The gesture in the volume of a sleeve. The feeling of a type of velvet. The joy of a shade of lilac. After half a year of tops that I could yank up easily to feed, nurture, and be a life vessel, suddenly I had to volte face. Give me those buttons! Complicated fastenings! Zippered dresses on the back! Or a heavily beaded Ganni dress that weighed more than Nico, adorned with flowering hearts. A blossoming metaphor for the new wave of love I felt for HER. My GIRL.

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