Saturday, July 30, 2011

The Girls

My breasts don't so much as look you in the eye to greet you anymore as say "Hey, wanna hang out?" so I was surprised when a male friend recently was shocked to find out my bras are padded, underwired and lift me to within an inch of my eyeballs.  Or chin.  Whatever.  Point is,  he was surprised (and maybe a tad disappointed?) that the beautiful melons stretching out my t-shirt had been enhanced.  Enhanced.  He said it like it was a dirty word.  I learned years ago that a girl's best friends are her chicken cutlets.  My sister's second wedding?  The one held a month after my engagement ended, where I held in tears on the alter while she said her vows... again...?  HELL YES The Girls were enhanced that night.  I needed to feel good and damn it if a little push and lift in my bra didn't do the trick.  Waist cinched - breast heaving - several Cosmopolitans before we made it from the pictures into the reception ensured it was a good night... or at least, a good looking one.  To me.  I was drunk.  I looked delectable.

So yeah, The Girls aren't as naturally social as they were some years ago.  But those perky little things you see on twenty-somethings everywhere, barely concealed by cute tank tops and running bras?

Can they do this?  [Editor's note: this portion of January's blog has been censured for content.]  No?

I didn't think so.

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