My boobies, oh the adventures they have had! I developed them early around 11 or 12 years old. I hated bras and I didn’t want to wear them. I swear that my boobies showed up one day and they were huge. There was never a time when they were ever perky. They always pointed to the gravel and not to the stars. My areoles were too big. I remember a time at a party where my boyfriend’s brother asked to see my boobies. He commented on my big areoles, he actually said that he liked them. From that point on I became self-conscious of them.
My boobies went off to basic training for the Army at 17. They got me out of physical training one morning since the damn bra broke. At 18 those boobies got a tattoo of a red rose on the left one. It has since faded.
My boobies leaked fluid one day when I was 18. The next morning I awoke with blood and clots to my knees. I didn’t know it at the time but that was my first miscarriage.
In my late teens my boobies were flashed to Def Leopard when I sat on some guys shoulders. Aerosmith saw them too.
At 20 those boobies saw the stars on the night as the Berlin wall came down. They saw the light of day at the French Rivera on a nude beach. At the end of my 20’s those boobies leaked again. They foretold of the coming of an infant.
At 21 they nourished and fed an infant, actually this went on for years. That infant sucked, suckled, nuzzled, and cherished those boobies. They were his whole world; he used them for food and for comfort. Again at 26 they foretold the coming of another infant to nourish and feed. That infant too nuzzled, sucked and bit those boobies. He too had found great comfort in those boobies.
At 27 came the man that I love. He liked those big milk filled boobies; he never tried the milk though. He said that milk is for the baby. For years that man has fondled, caressed, kissed, sucked, tweeted, tweaked, and tuned in those boobies. He has rested his head upon them much like those babies did.
At 28 those boobies leaked again. Instead of the coming of an infant, it foretold the coming of a nightmare of an entopic pregnancy that turned into emergency surgery in the middle of the night.
In my 30’s those boobies floated on the water of a hot tub in the Colorado Mountains. They became erect at as the snow hit them. Sales men have tried to sell those boobies dirt bikes and furniture. One of those sales men even got told that those boobies didn’t pay the bills, the owner of those boobies did!
Those boobies move to Florida and again got to see the light of day on the beach, of course no one was around and boy did those boobies itch when they got burnt!
These boobies have bounced up and down as they performed CPR on the surfer that day at the beach, as well as many a time in the Emergency Department. Some of the recipients were actually saved. These boobies have been crushed by hugs of sorrow and hugs of joy.
These boobies have been fat and they have been small thanks to weight watchers. In my late 30’s these boobies ran half and full marathons. Lots of miles were put on them. This is about the only time I was thankful for the damn bras.
These boobies have worked with several whose boobies had to go. These boobies have been there when others were told of the diseases their boobies had, when the others’ boobies had to be removed, and these boobies have comforted those whose nausea overwhelmed them after chemo. These boobies have cared for those whose diseased boobies ravaged their bodies and took them from the earth.
These boobies have also seen those whose boobies were removed return to work and return to a normalcy in their life. These boobies have seen the beautiful rebuilding of others boobies. These boobies have seen those survivors run marathons, and even go on to have babies of their own to comfort.
If these boobies ever have to go, I will understand. They have seen and done a lot but if they have to go, so be it. I will finally be able to get a pair that will point to the stars and not the gravel.
My favorite shirt I ever saw… “Of course they are fake, the real ones tried to kill me.”