You were once pert little buds, although I took you for granted. While you were pert, soft and round, I wanted what most young girls want at one point or another. Big boobs. Or... at least bigger. Just not my little small end of B cups. That desire was granted, but along with bountiful boobs, came a bountiful, growing belly. You sat a top my growing belly like two beautiful coconut goddesses. Full, firm and round. We soon headed out on a new journey. A place you had never been before--The D cup.
It wasn't long before my growing belly turned in to a precious baby in my arms, and Boobs...You were looking good, nestled closely like the bond of twin sisters, and you were, indeed "The Twins." Milk flowed through you to nourish my young, and then that journey ended. I woke up one morning, getting dressed to witness a horror. "Where are my boobs?!" Let's get real. It was more like "The f--- is this shit??!!" These boobs were foreign, and I did not recognize them. The skin seemed to be less taught. I couldn't pull the skin like that before?! Their glorious, spherical shape now looked sloped, droopy and sad.
So, I sat and pondered the meaning of life, questions unanswered, and then it hit me. My lower hanging, 'melting ice-cream down a playground slide' looking boobs, were introduced to the...push-up bra. Great, right? RIGHT? Wrong. Boobs, I feel betrayed. Here I sit in my ultra, double push up bra, and I have a wonky boob that seems to be trying to get away from the other, and doesn't quite fill up the cup, and the other, over filling the cup causing the infamous "muffin boob." What's going on here??!!
My pert little B's are gone. My bountiful D's are gone. You two no longer go near each other. You try to scurry away in to my arm pits when I lie down. Left boob wants to stay in a C cup. Right boob wants in a B cup. When I shove you together in my push-up, it is not two mounds of perfectly symmetrical cleavage. It is one round mound, then some weird, squished mound, with what looks like a weird gap thing in between you now. I am writing this to my boobs to say shame on you, boobs for letting me experience your brief awesomeness, then BAM! Taking it all away. Why let me experience that awesomeness if I can't keep it? It's like buying someone a present, letting them play with it for a moment, then telling them they can't actually keep it. This is cruelty at a whole new level!
the twins the sad, wonky, ice-cream boobs who seem to fear one another now.