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My Ample Bosom

February 3, 2010


“Did you wear a good bra?” Asked my sister.

We were about to head out on a shopping spree hoping to pick up some leftovers from black Friday.

“I don’t have one.” I replied.

My sister looked at me in horror.

I assured her that I do, in fact, own an over the shoulder boulder holder. However, pebbles would describe my chest more accurately than boulders.

My bras resemble the training bras you would expect a preteen to be wearing before puberty hit with full force.

I would like a big girl bra, I really would. At 32 years old, I am well past puberty.

So far as I can discern, a real bra is one with an under-wire and padding. Therein lies the problem.

The way a “real” bra works is that your breasts lay in the padded cups and over the under-wire. The weight of your ample flesh holds the bra in place.

Well, my mosquito bites are far from ample. Lifting my arms while wearing a “real” bra, results in its relocating itself halfway up my boobs. The under-wire happily finding itself directly on top of my nipples.

If you ever see me sticking my hand up my shirt, I am not fondling myself. I am returning my perverted bra to its intended position.

So why did I buy two “real” bras while we were out?

Well, they were so pretty and soft. They were on sale and they actually had my size. Also, to be quite honest, you can see my high-beams right through my “training” bras. They may be small, but when they stand salute, my girls draw plenty of attention.

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