Because one of two things will happen:
a] I'll die, which is going to happen eventually anyway; or
b] I'll get a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery that's covered by my insurance so I don't have to pay thousands of dollars for an "elective" breast reduction. In other words, THEY CAN FINALLY CHOP THESE HORRIBLE FUCKING THINGS OFF AND REPLACE THEM WITH TITS THAT WILL FIT IN A NORMAL BRA THAT DID NOT HAVE TO BE CONSTRUCTED IN DRYDOCK.
I'd prefer b], but frankly, either one would be fine at this point. Just so I don't have to spend fifteen minutes a day in vain attempts to stuff them into a DD [the largest cup size that comes in colours other than black, white and beige for less than $35] because the few DDD's I have are either dirty or so uncomfortable that I can't wear them. What's worse, I AM wearing a DDD, and they're starting to ooze out the top of that too. What terrifies me is the idea that they may never stop growing and in another five or ten years they'll be visible from space. My town will start selling T-shirts with "Home of the original Twin Peaks" on them. Brenna knows exactly what I'm talking about. Neither one of us can wear a push-up bra because we'd need a periscope with it, and that gets too expensive.
I could just go spend more money on bras, and I'm gonna have to, but I'd really rather somebody just cut the damn things off. They get in the way when I play guitar anyway. [Wearing a minimizer actually makes it worse--it squashes your tit down, and part of it ends up under your arm, restricting your arm movement even more. Try reaching around a cone and then reaching around a square box and you'll see what I mean.]
same bitch time, same bitch channel...
Posted by Frida Peeple at September 17, 2005 11:25 AM