The Real Life Struggles of Having Boobs
Good Morning!
This topic has been on my mind a lot lately, probably because the underwire in my bra is at the point where if I make a wrong move it stabs me forcing me to do some weird interpretive dance move. A lot of my friends are thin and damn close to flat chested, I'm constantly getting fondled as I am not thin and no where near flat chested. If I had a dollar for every time I heard the words "You are so lucky to have such big boobs" I could literally buy Donald Trump out of running for President.
A little bit of my boob history. Up until my sophomore year of high school I was President and Vice-President of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. The majority of the boys in my class out-boobed me in every way. But something happened the summer before sophomore. I don't know how and I don't know when, but one day I woke up with boobs. I completely skipped that whole A cup B cup thing and went straight to the C's. They gradually kept growing and now I am at a beautiful DDD. Yes three D's.
Struggle #1 try finding a bra, I dare you. I'm always seeing commercials and advertisements with girls wearing cute bras bright colors, fancy lace, the whole shebang. So I go check out the bras at the nearest Walmart, I see the cute bras and try to lie to myself and grab one I think will fit. I get in the dressing room, try the bra on and my chest turns into Chris Farley in a little coat. So it's back to the grandma bras I go.
Struggle #2 You're a messy eater, don't worry your boobs will catch that. I can't even count how many times I've taken my bra off at night and half a bag of chips has fallen out. My cleavage is like a storm drain in China Town. It collects everything my mouth didn't want.
Struggle #3 Try to run without triggering an avalanche. Running is already a struggle for a full figured female such as myself but with boobs, hot damn it's a whole new definition of struggle. I have to wear not one but two sports bras. Trying to shove these babies in two sports bras is like trying to shove the faces back into Mt. Rushmore, it's impossible.
So to all you ladies contemplating spending thousands for someone to surgically put some whoopy cushions in your chest take it from someone with the real thing, it's a bad idea.
I hope you all have a beautiful day and remember, wine always tastes better in a coffee cup.
Cheers!
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