My breasts are a war torn nation. They are depleted, without hope and their landscape holds no luster. They have no formal government and allow themselves to be forced into any shape, structure or form of confinement that any “expert” suggests. They have given up. Combat has killed their spirit. A freak flag no longer flies over the once proud, proud continent of my chest. Cross my heart (bra), the only thing waving over here is my white flag. I also think they (whisper) may be depressed. Look at them. What once was round is now definitely a frown and there seems to be no real hope or structural possibility of turning their frown upside down. The law of physics has won…BIG time. I guess I should embrace them and salute their service, but, it’s kind of hard to look at them and when I go to say, “Gee, thanks!” what comes out instead is an extended eye roll and a guttural, “UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”. What was once Disneyland is now the broken down carnival ride that is administered by a man with 3 teeth. Meet my new chest, Carnie Earl!
WHY am I talking about this? TMI? I think not. How many of us are living this right now? I’m willing to bet that some of you are holding your breasts up right now with duct tape, wishes and dreams. Amen, sister?
So, I’m going to say it loud and proud…I can NOT wait to have chestal reconstructive surgery. That’s what all the scienticians are calling it. I am going to, one lovely day, have a chest that does not meet my stomach. I will be able to wear regular shirts without looking pregnant or like a hot air balloon. I WILL, have breasts that are in the general region where breasts belong. It will be glorious. And, when I’m walking (well, strutting) around town and someone whispers through gritted teeth, “Boob job!”, I’m going to turn around, hold up a SUPER High Five and wait for Judgy McJudgerston to totally leave me hanging. And, when they pass, I’m going to say, “Sorry my boobs are too awesome for you!”
Until that day, I’m going to work on constructing a super bra out of household items. On my short list, ace bandages, the plastic portion of spatulas and some minor welding of cookie cutters