I’ve written about (and let’s not forget photographed) fat feet, revealed ugly hygiene issues and prattled on about marathon pee sessions. Today, we will be discussing “The Girls”. Yes, ladies, today is the day we talk BOOBS! Why, you ask? The smarty pants in me wants to respond, why not! But there is actually a reason. It all started innocently enough with my last post. As many of you guessed or suggested, my last post is the beginning of a layout I’ve had in my head for a while. Rather than try to remember all these random thoughts when I can actually find the time to scrap them, I decided to post them here. And random thoughts they were. It wasn’t until I read your comments that I realized I had listed the little bit about plastic surgery. And of course, you have to be certain there would be an interesting story to go along with that thought. So kick back, put your feet up and we will begin our tale.
Once upon a time, there lived a girl who was not only obsessed with her funny looking feet, but she had other…bigger…issues. She was blessed with what so many women relinquished family treasures to acquire…a nice ample bosom! Now there could have been a time when she would have seen this as a gift and not a curse. But when you are blossoming as others are budding…well, let’s just say the young lassie began to wonder if an evil wicked witch had it in for her. Friend and foe alike brought constant attention to her abnormality. Amid pointed fingers and whispers, the girl suffered in silence as she had no clue as to how to break the curse.
Time passed and the girl became a young lady. Others reached the stage of being fully developed and she no longer found herself to be as unique as she had in her adolescent years. But it was still obvious that she was more than abundantly blessed. One particularly happy day, she found herself realizing her dream of being a mommy. She was settling in at home with her brand new bundle of joy when she stepped in front of her mirror, mirror on the wall and gasped in horror. The evil wicked witch had cursed her yet again. Just as Cinderella’s fairy godmother had turned a pumpkin into a carriage, this girl’s evil wicked enemy had transformed her large breasts into enormous watermelons. Tears streaked her face as she realized she would be doomed for all eternity. No Prince Charming could rescue her…she only had a precious baby boy to love, one who would find nourishment from the ridiculously overgrown milk bags.
More time passed and a second little one entered her life. For reasons unknown to the now young woman, the wicked witch backed off. As her wee little loves began to grow into precious toddlers, her super-sized chest began to shrink. She thought she had finally found happily ever after!
Happy endings can sometimes have a short shelf life and this would be the case in our story. Mr. Not-So-Prince-Charming ran off with another beautiful princess. And Father time, along with grumpy old Gravity, had taken their toll on our heroine’s…errrr…assets. Hoping to one day find her real Prince Charming, the girl was sad to realize the witch might actually have the last laugh…she may one day have to uncover these sagging uglies to her new knight in shining armour.
She thought and thought. Then the idea struck to enlist the help of the magicians called plastic surgeons. With their knives and potions she could return to the beautifully bosomed girl of her youth. Moments of sheer delight passed as she pondered her ability to once and for all tell that wicked witch to shove it! Having never shared her thoughts with another soul, she was ready to confide in her dearest friend, Nurse Karen. Being the ever faithful friend, Nurse Karen felt it her obligation to inform the flopsy bosomed lady of the secret techniques used by the magicians when wielding their reconstructive magic. What the lady heard that day caused her heart to stop and a bone-chilling fear to take hold of her entire being. It was at that moment she made peace with the evil wicked witch and chose to create a different kind of happily ever after.
So now you know the story behind my consideration of plastic surgery. Yes, I am the girl in the story. Oh…what was the secret that caused me to recoil in fear? Truth or not, all I needed to hear was that the surgery begins by Cutting. Off. My. Nipples. OUCH! And DOUBLE OUCH!!! Now, each and every morning, I smile as I corral my breasts from their sans-bra state of dangling at my waist and hiding under my arms to be lovingly tucked inside their harness. I smile because I know that despite whatever that wicked witch had in mind, she would NEVER get me to chop off my nee-nee’s!