Speaking of Boobs

NOTE***If you are reading this and trend toward the squemish or just don’t need to know anything about my boobs, sign off now. You have been warned. ***

Speaking of boobs…mine are going away. I think it to be the most unfair of all unfair’s that just because one works on losing one’s fat nasty ass, she has to lose the only thing she’s got going for her too.

I like my boobs. I always have. Never really obsessed on their size, sometimes wished they were bigger, but not enough to want surgery or feel ugly about them. They are fine with me. . . a little too responsive at times,(shots do it every time!ergo the padded bra) but hey, that’s ok with me. Recently though, I’ve been looking at them a lot. I did the pencil test while in the bathroom the other morning. You know what I’m talking about? Where you put a pencil under your boob and if it stays…well you’ve lost some perk.

Morbid, horrible test. nonetheless, I took it.

Flop. Pencil on floor immediately. Now, I was shocked and retook said test about oh…thirteen times. Yay! one would say! Perky!! Huh. I’m not so sure about that.
I’m pretty sure it’s because they are shrinking. Dwindling away, sadly swimming about in a bra that has become more like a tent than a snugly fitted glove.

WHY?!?!?!?!?

I’m sad about this. It’s not worth eating back the 30+lbs that have caused the little fuckers to shrink, but damnit!!! DAMN IT!

I know we all have body issues. Some of us have been used as a drive thru McDonalds by our children, some of us have battled disease and won, or lost, some of us have lost and gained and lost and gained, some of us are pre-dispositioned genetically. I get all of that. And I’m not comparing or competing with any of it.

But, I have to admit, I’m sad about my boobs.