Remember this classic clip from Anchorman? Well that's me these days. Ladies and Gentleman, I've blossomed from a nice, perky 34B handful to a chesty, semi-porn, juggie 36DD. It's really amazingly unfair what pregnancy does to a body. It gives you some big old boobs. Just call me Tits McGee.
A woman who lives the majority of her adult life accustomed to nice little B cups has no idea what to do with juggs. At first it was like wanting straight hair when you have curly hair. Then, making a wish and getting straight hair. Wham, bam. Wish come true. Look at me world! I have breasts! They're novel and fun and great to look at, if not a bit sexy. For a minute. Now, I want these GONE. Back to the Hustler centerfold from whence they came. I feel like the 8th grade girl who gets her boobs first and doesn't know what to do with them and is extremely self-concious because all the boys are ogling her. Are you there God? It's me CrazyVirgo. I have boobs and I don't know what to do with them.
There are unspoken rules that go with having DD (double freaking D) cups, that I am not aware of. Am I still allowed to wear V-neck shirts, because they show a lot of cleave, where there used to be none. What about tight shirts? Unacceptable? Do I look like a [pregnant] stripper on her way to the gym? How much cleav am I allowed to show and remain respectable as a pregnant mother-to-be?
Boob Fairy, I know when I was 21, I blew out my birthday candles and asked for some decent sized boobs, but WTF? Did my requested get wait-listed for 11 years? Did you think you it would just be funny to wait until I had a bulbous belly to match my boobs?
They're huge. They hurt my back. They attract too much attention. Women have even stopped to stare.
Oh, and better yet..... they get bigger before they get smaller. Joy.
