B is for Breasts Of which ladies have two; Once prized for the function, Now for the view. ~ Robert Paul Smith
The other day I decided to wear a bra that hadn’t seen any use since before Sausage was born. Like all my bras from that era, it was heavily structured — meaning padded. I always bought these bras because as a somewhere-between-A-and-B cup, I needed something to hold out my shirt and give me some shape. Upon trying on this pretty and long-disused undergarment, I found that I fill it out a WHOLE. LOT. BETTER. than I ever used to. I make those B cups my bitches, baby!
Now wicked pleased with myself, I grabbed a long dress to wear to the theater that night — my legs looked crappy, all bug bitten and bruised, so I didn’t want to wear shorts or a shorter skirt. The word décolletage never came to mind.
By the time I was dressed and heading out the door, thisclose to being late for my backstage call, I had realized that my breasts, in that bra and that (more low cut than I had remembered) dress, thought that they were in a Victoria’s Secret ad.
But it was fine. I mean, yeah, the girls were … noticeable … but it wasn’t like they were that huge. I figured that I’d get by.
But by the end of the show, changing back into the dress, I remembered an extra little tidbit of new-mom-boob trivia. My breasts were now full of milk. They had GROWN.
As a matter of fact, they were about ready to burst on out of that pretty, B-cup bra.
And friends started commenting on them.
Holy crap. I had become a walking Barbie doll.
But still. I decided that if I was going to have phenomenal, comment-worthy boobage for a night, I was damn well going to rock it. So I went out for drinks with some friends after the show.
And in the 20-something-hipster filled bar? I GOT CHECKED OUT.
REPEATEDLY.
And the hot, 20-something-hipster girls? The ones who weigh 20 pounds less than me and are completely free of spider veins? THEY GLARED AT ME.
Wow.
So I decided to write a poem about my bosoomas. My titties. My lovely lady lumps.
I had it all composed, but then I fell asleep without writing it down, so here’s a completely different crappy poem that I composed just now.
Oh lovely piles of glands and fat
Which do reside upon my chest;
With moles, and marks, and just one tat,
I feel that now, with you, I’m blessed.
Where once a shallow valley spread,
Since hormones flooded through your veins
And beauty to a purpose wed
A canyon now is my domain
And I find reason to be vain.
Now, I know it won’t last. I know that as soon as I’m done breast-feeding, they’ll shrink back down to their normal size, with none of that pesky perkiness that they used to possess. And I also realize that I’m a grown woman, with talents, skills, and personality, and that my breasts are not a feature of myself on which I should be fixating. But I’m damn well going to enjoy these mommas while I’ve got ‘em.
My ladies at the end of the evening. BAM.
Wouldn’t you?
Lovely! Yeah I think you should rock ‘em. This happened to me once — I won’t get into details. “So this is how the other half lives,” I thought.
I’m hoping that I’ll finally have the chance to actually say to someone, “Hey! My eyes are up here!”
Hee hee heeeee!!
Daaaaayyyyyyyummmmm, girl. Those are some bodacious ta-tas you have going on there.
Aren’t they? I was always jealous of the girls who had cleavage, and NOW I’M ONE OF THEM. Hahahahahahaha!
There’s those commercials that are Hail to the V. I think this post is deserving of Hail to the B. Way to rock ‘em, KV.
Why, thank you! I will rock them right up until they deflate like stretched-out water balloons!
You make it sound like “human Barbie Doll” is a bad thing.
Of course it’s not, if you like the idea of toppling forward under the weight of your own breasts, and having a waist too small to contain functioning intestines. If you’re into that, then it’s a great thing!
Yeah, it’s all good!
Oh, and I loooove your header!
Thank you! I made it myself. My husband was all, “Why are you splattering coffee all over the kitchen? Oh. It’s art. Okay.” And then he backed away slowly.
Hey boobs, heeey! Now I will know what boobs to look for on the redhead. I thought I found you at Giant on Friday, but I just made someone feel uncomfortable with my stares….and now I’ll search for your hot boobs, which won’t make anyone feel awkward at all.
You know, we could just meet up for coffee. Rather than stalking people who look superficially like each other, I mean.
Well, now there’s an idea. Let’s do it!
I’ll message you.
I love this so much!
I love YOU so much!
I loved your post! I laughed! There is a downside to having large breasts – for example, I can’t wear button up shirts or make a sharp left turn in my truck, they get in the way. I also can’t jog for fear of black eyes. When I was breast feeding they got so big they each had their own zip code. I did use the line, “They don’t talk” once when they were being checked out. To my chagrin he replied, “They’re talking to me!” Argh!!!
Well, even with all the hugeness, they’re not that big. They’re just big for me. I’m at no risk for blackening my own eye with them! I don’t envy you for having such big breasts … but it is fun to experience the other side of the fence for once, you know?
Woah! looking good there!! I’m about the same size as you and I have to say my boobs havent fared too bad post-breastfeeding. And I read somewhere that after using your boobs for the purpose they were intended then you should always – forever more – wear a bra to bed – keeps them in their place and prevents them getting saggy. Dont know if that works but I’m doing it and no sagginess so far!!!
Hooray! I would LOVE to think that I won’t get all saggy once breastfeeding is over. I was a little afraid that I was just going to have to keep breastfeeding until I died, just to keep my figure. It would also keep my kids from going too far away for college …
By then I’m hoping they will have picked somewhere nice and sunny for college so I can visit, sit in the sun and live off them!!
Hmm. That sounds like a good idea, too.
she-sus christ, i laughed really hard at — so i wrote a poem and i had it all composed, but i forgot to write it down, so here’s another one that i just composed right now. dying. and nice tits. bwwwaahhhha. sm
Aww, thanks Sweet Mom! For the laughter and the compliment, of course.
Lovely luscious lady lumps leaving lusty lads leering longingly.
That post has now been marked as a fav…if that doesn’t get freshly pressed than the powers that be are silly gits
I can always hope. I’ve sacrificed countless goats in a vain attempt to catch ‘their’ eye, but still the Holy Grail of WordPress bloggery eludes me.
Flash the judges – that’ll get their eye!
I came pretty goshdarn close in this post! I don’t know if my Loving Husband could handle me going any farther with it!
Somehow I think there is a snappy comeback about handling things waiting to be made. I have no idea what that might be other than I am sure your husband will find a way
Looooooooooooolz.
Kathy,
This is
pantshands down my favourite post of the day.Le Clown
Le Clown,
Why, thank you. Just watch it with those pants and hands. I don’t want to get on the Ringmistress’s bad side.
Kathy
Kathy,
I laughed. Hard. Kudos. And fuck you.
Le Clown
Le Clown,
Thank you! I’m glad you laughed. And fuck you, too. Wanker.
Kathy
Kathy,
Please send me royalties for using “wanker”. Thank you.
Le Clown
Le Clown,
No. Maybe if I had used the ‘m’ word that ends in ‘-agnificent’. Or maybe if you were Dotty Headbanger. But neither of those is the case. As such, I will once again call you wanker.
Kathy
Kathy,
Owning your domain has been good to you. How you’ve grown.
Le Clown
Le Clown,
Yes, it has. Now be nice or I will chop off your head.
Kathy
Kathy,
Le Hydra-Clown does not fear you.
Le Clown
Le Clown,
I have many axes.
Kathy
Kathy,
I want to have the last word.
Le Clown
Le Clown,
Fine.
Kathy
Kathy,
Pfft.
Le Clown
Oh I would, and did, enjoy my little mommas while they were here. I wined them and dined them and gazed at them wistfully. And now I miss them. But in my dreams they are glorious once again.
Oooh, yes, I should take them out! On dates, I mean, not like indecent exposure. I can get a sitter, go out to dinner with the Loving Husband, and revel in all the “How’d that guy manage to land a woman like her?” looks. I’m simultaneously disgusted with myself for having that thought, and delighted with the idea.
Loving Husband will enjoy that almost as much as you do.
I very much hope so.
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BAM! is right.
They’re a double whammy! BOOMSHAKALAKA.
You can rule the world now…seriously. Go rob something, the cops won’t even notice you, and by “you” I mean your face. You are the ultimate booby-super villain!
I’ve always wanted to be a super villain! I could be the evil Doctor Cleavage, who rules Gotham City by controlling men’s hormones. Yay!
Looking good! What helped me when I hit the stage of massive bazoombas was to enjoy, and then burn into memory all of the bad and/or inconvenient things. Like not being able to see under them well enough to notice milk leaking, etc.
When I shrunk back to normal size I was actually quite pleased. It was nice, but it’s not how I’m supposed to be. Giant mazoombas are a lot of extra work that my girls don’t require. And my girls aren’t normally sore.
Truth be told, when I’m wearing a less padded pre-pregnancy bra, they’re not that impressive. Even at their biggest, I can still see under them. But even so, I’m enjoying them to the fullest right now! Hmm, what to wear today …
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Go you for schooling that B cup! And yes, always a little scary to find yourself having become a Barbie accidentally
Especially since Mother-brain seems to have made my brain dribble out my ear. I like to think that I could afford to lose a hundred IQ points or so before hitting Barbie level, but you never know.
Now you can offer your baby a milk shake lol. To give myself a laugh when I’m breastfeeding I’ll ask my son if he wants a milk shake and shake my breast at him. Then I’ll sing ” Shake, shake, shake.. Shake shake shake, shake your booby. Lol. Kinda corny but I do what I have to do to ease the tension.
Sausage does think it’s pretty hilarious when I jiggle at him. My husband thinks it’s funny, too. My breasts cause much hilarity in this house!
way to rock the V line lady… and thank you for the laugh. –multiple laughs
I aim to please. On many levels.