So I noticed the other day that my strapless bra fell off.
Like, slide right down my belly.
Now, one with a rationale mind might think, “Oh, my boobs must have gotten smaller.”
I blamed the bra.
“Oh, it must be stretched out…by my enormous jublies.”
So today I took myself bra shopping.
I grabbed a couple of D’s, and threw in some C’s - you know, just in case training really has taken a toll that I was not aware of.
When the D’s left room for a whole separate watermelon, I reluctantly tried on the C’s.
No matter how much I hoisted, pulled, twisted, adjusted – the suckers just would not fill the cups.
So I did what I am best at –
Turned on the denial, and bought myself some ice cream.
And then bitched up a storm.
Not since the 5th grade had I ever sunk so low.
And it’s crazy – for as long as I could remember, I have lamented my large boobies– couldn’t wear the cute little tops, had to buy the orthopedic-looking bras – you know the drill, my large-breasted friends.
But now, all I can think of is that it’s not fair.
The whole episode trigger a memory of a scene from one of my favorite movies – “Beautiful Girls.” If you’re familiar with the movie, it’s the scene where Rosie O’Donnell give Timothy Hutton and Matt Dillon a tongue lashing for their love of all things Playboy and airbrushed.
She says that, in summary, God is a fair man – he gives heavier women big boobs, and skinny bitches small boobs.
And every time I watch this, me and my double D’s would scream at the tv, “Hell YEAHH!!!! Right on!!!”
Then I’d high-five each boob and eat a cheeseburger.
But now I’m like, “Hey - WTF?”
Okay, fine – I do work out a lot. And yes, my body has changed as a result.
But if God was going to take away my basooms, why’s he stop there?
What? He can’t see the sizable ass and hips from Heaven?
The Man, I am told, can see all.
Shit’s not right, man.