Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Of pancakes and Funbags...

So if you follow me on twitter you know that my pancake making this morning led me to thinking about the future state of my boobs. I suppose giggling would be a better way to put it. Either way, the point of the matter is that after years of glorious, spectacular service the girls feel they have been abused {oddly by their purpose.. but whatever} and they aren't going to take it anymore. They will be saggy, lack substance, and need good push-up/cross back/ front snap bras... and of course only the best will do... otherwise they will {of course} look like I breast fed 3 kids {2 of them over a year} because they hate me.
And you know what? That's fine with me dear beastestes. I hate you too.
I can wait for you to shrink down to the B cup that I haven't seen since 5th grade.
Don't get me wrong. You were fun once... I guess, you were spectacular, so much so that I was okay with the fact you choked me when I laid down. We had a great run. And I'm thrilled that I used to flash people, go bra-less, and celebrate you and your bounty as much as possible when you were still amazing. But now? Not so much.
Now I think big boobs are just gross... you have indeed over stayed your welcome... swelling to the size and hardness of large cantaloupes, leaking all over my bed, dripping on my feet... spraying the baby in the eye {okay, okay, that was pretty funny} but I digress.
And I fantasize about the time when I'll be able to "tape" you down to my chest.. and see my feet... the marvelous era of the pancake boobs.

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