Once there was an attractive, smart, and witty girl named Carrie. Despite all the wonderful traits she had been given, there was one thing two things the gods hadn't blessed her with: ample bosoms. She had spent much of her childhood reading Judy Blume's Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret and practicing bust enhancing exercises.
Fortunately, as she grew more mature, she realized that her small bosoms weren't such a bad thing. Sure, she could use 2 bandaids as bras, but she never had to worry about a backache. Her lack of cleavage never seemed to prevent her from meeting young men. The man she eventually married happened to be more of a "Derriere Dude," so life was good. She was content to be in maybe a B cup if it was a good day.
Still, there was a small part of her that always wanted a little more junk under the hood.
When Carrie had her first baby, she experienced all the normal mammary changes of new motherhood, but kept on purchasing the small cup sizes she had gotten used to her whole life. Eventually, 6 or so months after weaning her daughter, Carrie's breasts shrunk down to the size of raisins. "Ah well, " she thought, as she watched the dream of large who-haas float away.
Later when Carrie's second baby came along, she was able to once again fit into those small cup sizes in nursing bras.
However, something magical must have occurred upon the conception of baby #3. Was it that Carrie had barely weaned child #2, and so her breasts had never had time to shrink back down to pee-wee size? Was it that the gods thought they'd do something special since they'd freaked Carrie out with a surprise pregnancy?
When Carrie's 3rd child was 6 months old, she decided to purchase a brand new nursing bra and was properly fitted. GREAT SCOTT!! It was a day that would live in infamy!
Not a size A or B. Not a C. Not a D. A size E!!! An E!!! Carrie didn't even know what the saleslady was talking about, so puzzled was she by this large size!
Carrie knew that eventually the gods, as they always do, would take away this great gift because gods are fickle that way. But until that time she would revel in the excitement and joy that was a big pair of hooters.
2 comments:
You are hilarious!!! My boobs will never be perky again :( They were small to begin with...now they are small and floppy. As my husband would like to call them "Baby tube socks filled with sand".
Would love to be able to sympathize with you here, but as you know, I've got the opposite problem. I could write my own blog post bemoaning what genetics and pregnancy combined to create in my frontal region.
The grass is always greener, isn't it? :-)
Post a Comment