Saturday, September 08, 2007

Don't hate me because I have perfect breasts...

...hate me because I don't like them.

The whole reason for shopping today was to find nice pants and some cute dressy shirts for dancing. Instead, I ended up with a bunch of unmentionables. And knowing that my brain-mouth filter was never installed correctly, you're going to hear about these unmentionables! :)

You see, I have apparently been gifted "perfect" breasts. Not too large, not too small... guys seem to like them entirely too much. I know because they've told me so. Through whistles, staring, and even some nice conversations. As luck would have it, that "perfect" size doesn't exist in the Land O' Women. Finding a bra that fits me is damn near impossible. Either the cups are too small and I spill out over the top, or the cups are huge and I look like I'm being swallowed by two PacMan creatures. I'd like to find a bra that's cute and fun instead of, well, a granny bra. I have to worry about how well the contraption is going to stay on: does it move when I lift my arms? do I fall out when I bend over? have they improperly engineered the micro-straps so they dig into my shoulders with the force of a freight train? I swear, it would be easier to just go without. AND, to make matters worse, "perfect" breast bras only come in white or "nude." (Why do they call it "nude" when you're clearly wearing something that doesn't match any skin color?) But persistence won out this time, and I spotted The One. Guess what! It fits. It fits perfectly. It was on sale. And it's purpley-pink.

To all the women out there that wish they had larger breasts: fools! Boobs just get in the way. To the women who wish their breasts were smaller: I understand entirely, but I also know it's a lot easier to find a 42DD bra than whatever size I happen to need.

There were other unmentionables purchased in this shopping spree, although discussing panties isn't nearly as much fun as bras. Ever since that lingerie shopping trip last spring, I've been willing to try on all sorts of things. I could get lost in the intimates section at large department stores, and I could spent lots of money.

So there you have it: entirely too much information about me. And my perfect boobs. That I still don't like.


The Guy Who Writes This said...

Jaggy, post a photo of the girls and we'll let you know if they are perfect.

Jaggy said...

Mr. Guy, I'm amazed that you're the only one with enough guts to post a comment!

and, FYI, that's what TH said too: "pictures or it didn't happen."

Sorry, boys, no pictures of The Girls. I'll just have to leave them to your fantastic imaginations.

TH said...

Guy....remember she could be your Grand-Daughter! (Maybe even your Great-Grand-Daughter if you started young..Tee Hee Hee)

You have gotten much dirtier over the last year!

Mom of Three said...

Aw, hell, Jaggy. I had a pair of D's by the time I was in 9th grade, and I was so sick of them so fast, you wouldn't believe it. I can't run. I can't jump rope and they make me look fat. Now that they've done their job (no, that is not as a microphone to speak into, like guys have done for years, but to feed my babies), I am looking into reducing them. They have worn grooves into my collarbones from the weight.