As is the case with most females…. I have boobs. And I like them. Consequently, I like to show them to their best advantage. I figure if you are looking at my boobs, you’re not noticing my fat ass.
When I was a kid, we’d play house or what have you and suck in our guts so that our ribcage stuck out trying to make it look like we had breasts. Alternatively we’d go with the “stuffing ourselves” scenario… kleenex, socks, what have you. Even at a young age we were aware that boobs commanded attention.
Apparently, the boys mocked me considerably in Grade 6 (I found out much later…) I was one of the first to develop and around that time I had a shirt which apparently showed off my newly acquired features. They seemed to be somewhat afraid of me in retrospect… not quite sure how to react I guess… I’ve since learned that the presence of breasts can immediately render a man brain dead.
I got my first bra in grade 7 and I was SO happy.. I mean.. I grew up during a time when ALL the girls read “Are You There God It’s Me, Margaret” and we were supposed to be SUPER excited about wearing bras and getting our periods (little did we know…). So even though it itched like crazy and was quite uncomfortable, I was thrilled. I can still remember sitting in grade seven math and having the teacher ask if I was okay as it appeared that I was having some sort of wicked allergic reaction due to my increased fidgeting and scratching in the chestal area.
Once I got used to the bra thing it was okay… for the most part. In grade ten I had a growth spurt and suddenly became a little more “attractive” to the boys… needless to say I did not rebuff these advances.. I rather enjoyed and encouraged them by finding THOSE kinds of sweaters.. the kind that accentuated my lovely protrusions and made boys want to get to know me better…. despite their awkward advances and monosyllabic chatter, I still liked the attention. Hey, I’m a girl.
Time passed..and I got married and pregnant with my first child. During the pregnancy, “the girls” became rather abundant as it were… as did the rest of me.. so really you didn’t notice them too too much. The day after I came home from the hospital I turned to my best friend and swore up and down that I wasn’t hitting on her.. but that she should touch them… just poke it with her finger.. They were as hard as ROCK and PAINFUL. Woohoo…..breastfeeding had begun. Actually, once it settled down, it was fine.. I enjoyed being able to breastfeed both my kids. It’s kind of empowering being a good source of protein.
Now that I am well past that stage.. and a single chick…. I enjoy highlighting one of my better assets. It’s interesting, I’ve had men out and out look down my top without even trying to hide it.. It’s almost as if they expect them to jump out or something if they stare hard enough. I mean, I don’t go topless or anything (although it IS legal, most women do not bother taking advantage of this law, much to the chagrin of most men…) however, I do wear tops that draw attention to that specific part of my anatomy. Hey, if I had great legs, I’d certainly be wearing something short.. so why not? I actually find it rather entertaining to have a reasonably intelligent man lose his train of thought because he’s paying more attention to my chest than what I’m saying… I guess I’m a wee bit of an exhibitionist… but I’m not being lewd about it.. if the good Lord hadn’t wanted me to flaunt them, he wouldn’t have had me buy all those push up bras now would he?
Plus, as I said.. it’s legal in Ontario.. and I’m only showing off the top half… 😉
Life: No update
Love: You’d think with all the low cut stuff I wear, I’d get lucky.. LOL
Pants: Still working on it.. but not “working my ass off” hard… gotta get back into the routine. However, as long as the boobs hold.. who cares about the pants?