Baby Got Back! (no, not me!)

I have never been someone known for a great ass! I have had my ass kicked. I have had my ass chewed out! I have been known as some one's "Piece of Ass" (sorry, mom!)! I have acted like an ass and ridden some one's ass...but as for the flesh below my spine...flat as a damned board. I can thank my Grandma Billie for this. For she too, had a lower back with a crack, no roundness...just flatness! I admire the girls I see around the office who have nice size butt's from small to large to GOOD GOD! Their pants fit them better, they shake a little more when they walk down the hall...I am jealous! I admit. I know that Envy is one of the 7 deadly sins, but come on...ya gotta want what ya ain't got!

However, some of those I have seen, and I don't want to mention names...are lacking in the one department in which I am well qualified to speak of. If they had a boob-tournament, I could be the leader....If the Rose Parade was about boobies, I would be the Grand Marshall. If there were a forum for people with boobs who lie and cheat....I WOULD BE THE GEORGE W. BUSH OF THE BUNCH. Ahem. Let me tell you the story of my girls.

Now, when I was a young girl, my very best friend in the world Alice was developing quite a bit faster than the rest of us pathetic little wannabees. She was probably a C cup in 6th grade. YEAH, you heard me! So, when going into my Freshman year of high school, I realized that the training bra that I was still wearing from 6th grade just wasn't filling out, I was, for a better word, unhappy. While the boys all ran around pulling at bra straps of those more fortunate than myself, I just sang Culture Club songs to myself. However every night, I held a vigil to the Gods that one day, and hopefully soon, that my nubs would turn into hooters...and I waited. I waited and waited and waited and by the time I graduated from High School, I was a 38 C. Not too big, not too small, just right for me. I was satisfied and my prayers had been answered. I had other things to concentrate on now...I don't remember what, but I was working on something!

When I moved to Texas after graduation, I decided that I was old enough to go on birth control pills. I hadn't had sex in God knows how long, but being on the pill would protect me in the Lone Star State from getting knocked up with some hillbilly's kid. So at 18, I went on the pill. Remember that I had long before stopped dropping to my knees and praying for Tinkerbell to sprinkle boobie dust on me. I was good. Good. GOOD!

Overnight it seemed, my ladies began to grow. Two years later, I was already a D cup and a year later, a DD. What is going on? It was like that movie with Beau Bridges where the hippy kids in the 1960's eat that stuff and they grow into giants. I mean, I was literally busting out of my clothes. I decided that buttons on my shirts could be construed as assault with a deadly weapon, so I steered away from them. Part of me was a bit happy that now all these men were staring at me, not for my stunning good looks (as if!), but because I had a nice rack. Sweet.

When I was about 9 months pregnant with my son, I went in search of a training bra. That was a joke! Every store that I went to looked at me, looked down, and then said "Honey, we don't carry your size!" I had to go to a specialty store where strippers go to buy pasties for their extra large implanted breasts. I was fitted for a bra and my jaw was left wide open when she told me the size was HHH. I'm sorry. Can you say that again? How many letters? Where did E, F and G go? How do you get to that size? After I caught my breath, I realized that it was probably because I was all knocked up and swollen. Yeah, that would be the non-realistic view. After he was born, I was the same size. Two months later, the same size. Two years later, the same size.

I finally went back to get a new bra and I was now a GG. Ok, so I was happy. I mean, at least they had come down a little. I was now a GG...as in...GOOD GOD! And that is where I have remained.

I do not mind that people talk to my chest...for there was a time that I prayed for it. I do mind that they talk only to my chest, for I do have a brain in my head. Although, most days, I am hard pressed to find that brain. Somehow instead of the Ugly Duckling turning in to a beautiful swan...I became a 13 year old boy who became Dolly Parton. And listen up, there is nothing wrong with that!

Mirth & Merriment to you....