…mine is nonexistent. I can be pregnant, gain weight, stand on my head; they stay looking like a twelve year old might have under her shirt.
I remember an ex-boyfriend said to me once to cut half of what down “there” and put it up “here”. I broke up with him right away. The jerk! It took me only three days to get over him.
Sad to say, but he’s not the only one with the same opinion. A friend and neighbour once told me under the influence of one too many beer that I could have been “sexy” if I have a decent bumper. I told her, hers is nothing to write home about either. Good that we were both in drunken stupor or otherwise…
I myself have no real problem with what I’ve got. In fact, I’m thanking my lucky star that mine is next to nothing; at my age and after two children…if I have a huge pair, it could be hanging on my lap by now. I have to confess though that I almost never breastfed. I tried for three months but my milk wasn’t sufficient enough my GP advised me to stop and never do it again.
If I’m being brutally honest, the only thing I have a bit of trouble about are my “tips.” They are very pointy and huge and look as if they are always in cold. It shows even through my brassiere. (I know there are some pads exist for this sort of problem; tried them, no good, never again) I heard it’s a fashion nowadays, pointy nipples… I even saw one episode of Sex and the City where Samantha was wearing fake ones. It was hilarious when she removed and threw them in the middle of the party.
Another thing is__ I hate brassiere. I have few lying around somewhere, but I rarely use them; only if I really, really have to. They’re uncomfortable and they choke me! Must be something to do with growing up and not owning one for the simplest of reason that I could not afford to buy them that time. My first training bra was bought by my adviser when I was a freshman. She couldn’t stand that her leading character in the winning school play would go on stage bra-less.
And I don’t even know why I am writing this aside from I’m suffering (again) from lack of sleep and feeling rebellious that I can’t celebrate my birthday because I have to work..