This is what happens when your breasts suddenly increase in size – it is an explosion of breast; a breastsplosion, if you will.
Because this month I have been the unimpressed victim of a breastsplosion, I’ve decided that now would be the time to start wearing bras again.
So I went to Marks and Spencers to get myself measured (I don’t own a tape measure myself, sadly) and thoroughly confused the sales woman. Just to make things clear, I was wearing a jumper, which I removed, and a strappy top, which I did not.
Her: [whilst measuring me] So, what size bra are you wearing at the moment?
Me: [surprised that she hadn’t noticed the bleedin’ obvious] Um, I’m not. [expaining] I only came here because my breasts got bigger.
Her: Oh. Well, what size bra do you normally wear?
Me: I… don’t.
Her: [gives me a confused look] Ok… well. Um. You’re a 34 D.
I managed to escape before getting a lecture on “going bra-less makes your breasts sag!!1!11!!!ELEVENTY!”
At this point, I really do wonder: why is it a problem for my breasts to sag? I mean, they’re not going to fall off (although frankly at this point, I’d hardly miss them if they did, they’ve become so annoying), and presumably my nipples will still function so I can’t imagine that the “won’t somebody PLEASE think of the CHILDREN” argument being particularly effective, so… why? Why does it matter? (And if, at this point, anybody is tempted to tell me that breasts that aren’t in bras are unattractive, all I can say is: well, I probably wouldn’t want to fuck you either.)
… I bring you…
I love my Paint graphics. They are fantabulous.
Also, I want it to be known that I would definitely buy this underwear. This is in complete contrast to lemon yellow underwear, which I would never, ever buy. Mainly because I associate it with a date-rape scene in a book by Lisa Jewell. That, and it’s ugly. Whereas the image I have created is a vision of wonder and joy.
This is what happens when you have a relapse of the lurgy. Anything seems funny. Even drawing pants in paint.