epiphany!
Do you ever have days when your nerve endings seem super sensitive and you can just feel your bra and how uncomfortable it is a lot more than usual? Well, I’m having one and it’s causing a minor meltdown.
Detachable breasts.
Seriously, how many problems would that solve, people??? First off, let me just clarify that I personally think boobs are silly looking (though not as ridiculous as guys’ dangly bits) and I’d just as soon not have them. I once had a conversation with my family wherein we concluded that, aesthetically speaking, the perfect human body would have the top part of a man and the bottom half of a woman. No embarrassing floppy parts-how good is that? But back to the topic at hand. Clearly, since breasts are primarily of interest to guys, wouldn’t it be better if we could just hand them over for their fondling enjoyment while we moved on to more interesting things? ‘Here, honey, knock yourself out. I’m going for a mocha frap.’ Brilliant!
Then there’s the comfort issue. Now I’m not that busty, probably just average or slightly over, but I’m here to say that having a chest is a nuisance most of the time and physically painful the rest of it. Some days I get so swollen from my cycle that my bra straps actually leave indentations on my shoulders, and I’ll wake up some mornings just aching. And any kind of high-intensity physical exercise is decidedly unpleasant without wearing a sports bra that feels like you’re strapped in iron. I have at times come close to grabbing a sharp implement and just hacking the damn things off.
Of course the mass media would have us all believe that it’s impossible to be sexy or attractive without a size DD chest, but that’s a) complete bunk and b) blatantly at odds with most of the clothing available today, which is clearly designed to be much more flattering on waif types. I get insanely jealous of my sister, the lucky cow, who is not as endowed and can wear all sorts of pretty little camisoles and halters and skinny-strap tops with no problem and, best of all, no bra. She has no idea how fortunate she is. Whenever I go to buy a top, I have to first analyze what I could wear under it, whether my bra straps will show, or if I’ll be busting out on the top or out the sides, and of course if I’ll look trashy. It really limits one’s choices. My sister complains that I have better proportions because my boobs balance my hips and butt, but that just means I have a fat arse as well! I could lose that if I exercised more, but I’m pretty much stuck with my top. It sucks.
I dread to think what will happen if I ever have kids and breast feed, which I would because it’s healthier. By the time I’m forty those puppies will be sagging around my knees. Shoot me now! I would seriously consider breast reduction if I could afford it, didn’t keloid scar like you wouldn’t believe, had less fear of going under the knife, and didn’t feel silly electing a procedure like that. But honestly, it’s not a vanity issue for me. It really is a comfort thing. And then I think about all the women who are even bigger naturally, and feel bad for complaining. They must really have problems, poor things.
So, any takers? If you would like these fatty glandular lumps, please help yourself. I’m over it.
Well, that was a bit of a rant. Sorry. Just needed to get it off my chest.
...
Eh heh heh. *facepalm*
Detachable breasts.
Seriously, how many problems would that solve, people??? First off, let me just clarify that I personally think boobs are silly looking (though not as ridiculous as guys’ dangly bits) and I’d just as soon not have them. I once had a conversation with my family wherein we concluded that, aesthetically speaking, the perfect human body would have the top part of a man and the bottom half of a woman. No embarrassing floppy parts-how good is that? But back to the topic at hand. Clearly, since breasts are primarily of interest to guys, wouldn’t it be better if we could just hand them over for their fondling enjoyment while we moved on to more interesting things? ‘Here, honey, knock yourself out. I’m going for a mocha frap.’ Brilliant!
Then there’s the comfort issue. Now I’m not that busty, probably just average or slightly over, but I’m here to say that having a chest is a nuisance most of the time and physically painful the rest of it. Some days I get so swollen from my cycle that my bra straps actually leave indentations on my shoulders, and I’ll wake up some mornings just aching. And any kind of high-intensity physical exercise is decidedly unpleasant without wearing a sports bra that feels like you’re strapped in iron. I have at times come close to grabbing a sharp implement and just hacking the damn things off.
Of course the mass media would have us all believe that it’s impossible to be sexy or attractive without a size DD chest, but that’s a) complete bunk and b) blatantly at odds with most of the clothing available today, which is clearly designed to be much more flattering on waif types. I get insanely jealous of my sister, the lucky cow, who is not as endowed and can wear all sorts of pretty little camisoles and halters and skinny-strap tops with no problem and, best of all, no bra. She has no idea how fortunate she is. Whenever I go to buy a top, I have to first analyze what I could wear under it, whether my bra straps will show, or if I’ll be busting out on the top or out the sides, and of course if I’ll look trashy. It really limits one’s choices. My sister complains that I have better proportions because my boobs balance my hips and butt, but that just means I have a fat arse as well! I could lose that if I exercised more, but I’m pretty much stuck with my top. It sucks.
I dread to think what will happen if I ever have kids and breast feed, which I would because it’s healthier. By the time I’m forty those puppies will be sagging around my knees. Shoot me now! I would seriously consider breast reduction if I could afford it, didn’t keloid scar like you wouldn’t believe, had less fear of going under the knife, and didn’t feel silly electing a procedure like that. But honestly, it’s not a vanity issue for me. It really is a comfort thing. And then I think about all the women who are even bigger naturally, and feel bad for complaining. They must really have problems, poor things.
So, any takers? If you would like these fatty glandular lumps, please help yourself. I’m over it.
Well, that was a bit of a rant. Sorry. Just needed to get it off my chest.
...
Eh heh heh. *facepalm*