I just was talking to a friend, who mentioned she was going to be having breast reduction surgery.
I was shocked. Shocked right down to my tootsies.
Not at what she was going to do... no, she's had some serious back problems from hefting those things around, since she's gained quite a bit of weight. It was just a matter of time.
Nope, what shocked me was my inner reaction: I was so jealous.
I've had this pair, whom I call "The Boys", since I was thirteen. They've served me well. Lord knows how many drinks I might have had to buy myself without them. They give me cause to throw money like it was confetti on Mardi Gras at Victoria's Secret. And speaking of, I have a lovely bead collection they were responsible for.
Guests and fish both stink after three days. Try 30 25 20+ years of hosting these one-eyed wonder twins.
Bored? Maybe. Peeved? At times. Fashionably disadvantaged? Most certainly. Styles are usually meant for boards, not bazooms. T-shirts look like they want to scream with strain. Sweaters gasp, buttons gap. Get them a size larger? Sure, if I want the hems dangling round my knees. Ever try to tuck a foot and a half into your pants?
Oh, you wish.
So there's this diet I'm on, and have been on for a while now. The legs are slimming, the ass is shrinking, the arms are trimming.
The Boys are just sitting there, lounging around the ribcage waiting for their next Wonderbra fix.
I want a chest like Debra Messing has. You know, Grace from "Will and Grace". Or rather, like she doesn't have. She's damn near flat. She's all tidy nipples and sleek camisoles. She never has to worry about showing too much cleavage. She's never lost a toddler in there. (There's a reason I don't babysit anymore.)
Oh yeah, let's talk about the cleavage. If the shirts are buttoned up to the neck, you get nerd-neck claustrophobia. You just can't wear turtlenecks all year round. And the more cleavage you have, the less brains. It's that simple. Ask anyone to rate the supposed mental capacity of two women... the flatty will come off like Marie Curie while the bounitfully-boobed will figure in somewhere around Anna Nicole Smith range.
The lesser the cup, the I.Q. goes up.
I guess for now I'll have to make peace with The Boys. Take them all in stride. Try to ignore their propensity to act as ad-hoc thermometers. Suffer the little t-shirts to cover unto me.
And when I get older, I can claim them on my taxes as dependents.
I humbly apologize for that last line. The GM1 thought it up and he's so very proud.
Posted by LeeAnn at November 8, 2003 10:28 AMI have a hard time feeling sympathy for you, LeeAnn. ;-)
When I graduated high school, I weighed 100 lbs & was a 34A *maybe*. By the time I was 30, I had gained 70 lbs & was a 36C - but not a full cup C, I've never had great cleavage. Now that I've lost 30 lbs, I'm on the low end of 34B & might have to break down & buy an A sometime soon.
*sigh*
I remember being told that I must be President of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. I've never been able to pass "the pencil test".
OTOH, my husband seems to *love* them & showers them with affection, so all is not terrible.
Still, it'd be nice sometimes to have some actual cleavage....
Could I box them up and send them to those who want 'em, rest assured there would be mail going on. :)
You know, they say the grass is always greener on the other side of the underwire.
Posted by: LeeAnn at November 8, 2003 11:03 AMYup, I got bigguns, too. But I let my cleavage show - can't stand turtlenecks, I must have been hung in an earlier life (yes, that could be a double entendre if'n I was a guy in an earlier life).
Keeps my from sleeping on my stomach, well, these days, so does my stomach!
But babies all quiet down when I pick them up and they can rest their heads on these super mammaries of mine.
I can feel for you, LeeAnn, but I'll keep mine - hopefully while losing weight, they will go down just a little bit.
Thanks for the hint ... doh! I have now changed the link to tale of two titties.
Posted by: Tiger at November 8, 2003 01:19 PMA personal question. Why do you call them the "boys"? I know several women who talk about the "girls" but this is the first time I have seen male boobs. On a woman that is, there are a lot of fat guys out there with man-boobs, but those are very different and not very exciting. We look at them, but in that sick way that you look at a car accident. Whoops, I am rambling.
Since I have met her J has gone from a C to a D to a C to a B to a C to pregnant, to D, DD, F, G, F, DD and back to D for a while, with all but the pregnancy D-cups going with a 38 ribcage. It is like having a new honey every few months. (they looked best as small Cs) J now files her bras by size.
Ted K.
Posted by: Ted K. at November 8, 2003 08:32 PMTed- If I remember correctly, I named them The Boys out of sheer oneryness. My stepfather, who thought constantly reminding me of their existance would make me more of a little lady, would exclaim when he'd see me wearing something feminine "look at those girls! What a fine pair!"
I retorted "They're NOT girls, they're boys."
Thus was born a legend.
Posted by: LeeAnn at November 8, 2003 08:58 PMI was there. I had some big 'uns. But 11 years ago, I have the things taken away. I had the breast reduction surgery and never regretted it for one istant. Ever. I have B-cup breasts that I serve up in tiny demi-cup bras.
I can totally recommend it. You have scars? So what. And to those who say: Plastic surgery? Shouldn't you be as nature intended?
My reply: Yup. And nature invented plastic surgery, so surely it must be ok. You have the money and are unhappy with yourself? Go for it. When I get older, as things start to fall down, you can bet your ass I will be paying money to hike things back up.
Posted by: Helen at November 10, 2003 01:51 AMplease arrange to have more breasts topics on yer site. I suggest pictorial documentitamammories in the interest of interest.
Posted by: Phil Dirt at November 11, 2003 09:48 AM