BOOBS!

I couldn't come up with anything catchier than the word BOOBS for a blog all about boobs.  Because honestly, boobs are generally pretty catchy all on their own.  Or at least mine are.  (They catch plenty of food I accidentally drop, which in turn leaves a stain.  They're the reason I need new clothes... that and my little drool monster.)

To say I have big boobs would be to say Niagara Falls is just a waterfall.  It's a bit of an understatement... considering they're in your face.  I've been blessed with the bosom, but I wouldn't consider it a happy blessing. 

And it seems the older I get, the bigger they get.  I wish it was like when you're a kid and every year your relatives send you a check for how old you turned that year.  (By the way, I'll be anxiously waiting at my mailbox this November for a box full of $29 checks people!)  Instead, with each birthday candle I get an extra ounce of flesh hanging off my chest.  Awesome.  I'm worried that by the time I hit retirement, my boobs will be collecting a Social Security payment all of their own. 

And having a baby hasn't made the problem any better.  In fact, it's only made it worse.  Because I am the Dairy Queen.  And when the Dairy Queen is full, the girls have increased a whole cup-size.  I don't even know how that is freakin' possible?  But it is! 

When I was pregnant, I grew huge.  And I got worried that when the milk came in it would be unbearable.  I was worried I wouldn't even know if the milk had come in yet because how would I be able to tell?  A very wise friend of mine explained to me that if you have to ask, then it hasn't come in yet... because YOU'LL KNOW IT!  She said it's like you all of a sudden have bocce balls.

HAHAHAHAHAHA! Bocce balls.  As if!  Let's try bowling balls!

At least that's what they feel like!  Don't even get me started on the dangers of running before pumping milk.  Do you remember those old Dolly Parton jokes you told (and barely understood) in elementary school about how when she comes back from a jog she's got two black eyes?  Yeah, there's some truth in that fucking joke.  And it's painfully not that funny.

Another huge problem (pun intended) with big boobs is finding clothes that fit.  Over the weekend Abby and I went shopping for grown-up clothes for her new job and my job interview (I aced it by the way!).  And I had two great dressed that I tried on and they fit perfectly... except in the chesticle region. 

And as I look in the mirror and realize there's nothing I could do but laugh, I shout across the dressing room door to Abby and say, "The dress looks good, but my boobs are too big for it!"

To which she replies, "That's something you'll never hear me say in my life." 

Because as much as it sucks to have jumbotrons, it can't possibly be any better to have barely there's either.  Maybe she and I can find a 2 for 1/ bosom buddy special at the plastic surgeons?