Friday, August 10, 2012

Ode to my A cups

It's unfortunate that my brother just starting following this blog as this post is all about how much I miss my small boobs. Sorry.

Reason #1 I miss my A cups: Big boobs make me look fat. We're approaching a year since I gave birth for 36 hours. The midwives by the way will argue that I was only in labor for 12 hours but they only consider "active" labor, the part where you are considering killing yourself, as actual "labor." The layperson counts labor as the the moment when you realize that all the bitching you did for the last 9 months pales in comparison to the pain you are feeling right now and you would do anything to go back to being fat, hot and bloated. So, for the record I was in labor for 36 hours and it's almost been a year since that 36 hours commenced and I have about 15 pounds left to lose. So, my big boobs and my extra 15 pounds make me look fat but from my vantage point it's my boobs not everything else that appear stout. I'm sure the guy walking behind would beg to differ but his opinion doesn't matter.

Reason #2 I miss my A cups: I have to wear a bra. Bra's in my opinion are for the unlucky women whose breasts actually move when they walk. Before I got pregnant, my boobs stuck nicely to my chest. They got a little out of hand near Aunt Flo's visit but besides that I could usually get away with wearing a tank top, Brazilian stylie. Now, I'm so inundated with fabric on my chest I feel like I'm being buried alive. I have taken to wearing tank tops with shelf bras, is that what they call these things, which is slightly better but I do sometimes look down and think, shit, I need to be making some scrambled eggs with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth in my single-wide with faux palm trees on my faux lawn.

Reason #3 I miss my A cups: There is yet another reason for me not to work out. What is that reason you may ask? Another layer of clothing, that's what. Before I could take off in a sprint and barely notice, now any physical activity outside of watering my bougainvillea requires an actual sports bra, not the training bra I used to wear, but an actual sports bra, which is essentially a one-inch thick tarp wrapped tightly around my chest cavity. Highly uncomfortable and a bitch to get on and off.

Reason #4 I miss my A cups: Children grab at my breasts. Notice how I said "children" and not Ellis. Yes, children, strange children who I don't know want me to nurse them and I find that highly disturbing. Sometimes they will walk up to me, put their little dirty hands into my white-trash shelf-bra tank top and pull down as if to free my large milky breasts from their minimum security prison. While I appreciate their unbridled survival tactics, I do not appreciate the looks their mothers give me. Hey, whatever, I can't help it if your kid can smell my milk from a quarter mile away. Control your child.

The good news is that whatever delusional fantasies I was harboring about getting a boob job when I'm rich and famous have officially been put to rest. Paying for this burden is just plain idiotic. I'll have my eyes lasered instead.

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