18 August - Tits

Oh dear…. I had not bargained for this, for essentially being a woman and always finding fault with bodies with which as we all know, we have a very complex relationship. So there I was ecstatic about the svelte Lisa in slinky Rifat Ozbek pants from ten years ago, shaking it on the dance floor and having assorted friends admire the 2-pack stomach (well I don’t want to work as hard as a bloke do I?) when no amount of looking at them from whichever angle could disguise the fact that the bras look a bit forlorn now that the detox and exercise has removed the only beloved fat I have ie. on my TITS.

I mean, they are ok but they’re aging and seeing them some inches down from where they stood in their glory has already upset me enough since I crossed this current decade and having less of them is… just not on. I shall have to eat lots, more than before in fact to replenish the bosoms’ shelf or very soon I won’t tolerate being anywhere where they are on display on young bodies. I had dinner with a 17 year old the other day who told me (as noticed me staring at her boobs trapped in tiny vest) that ‘My boobs keep growing, I don’t know why.. I’m a F now’. I could have hit her. It was bad enough the other night watching this Spanish film from a few years ago, “Sex and Lucia” (a total mis-title if I ever came across one, yes there was sex but not that much and the film was about so much else). Two of the three female leads where ultra attractive and in their mid-twenties and every time they removed their clothes - and they were naked a lot on various desert beaches etc. - I could only but stare at their tits: perfectly round, and solid and whiter than the rest of their bodies, and sitting high on their chests... and just gorgeous. Like mine used to be. Oh ok, I probably back then wanted a different nipple, more permanently erect would have been good, but for example size of aerola was fine by me, oh, now I think about it I also wanted them to be closer together, to have more natural cleavage but .. there were always bras for that, nice 32C bras which now seem to have the top half empty of flesh. How do you stop mourning about your lost super tits? I mean, the BF likes what I have, they're a major improvement on tiny size of his ex’s, so he's well happy, can't fall asleep if has not had a feel, but… he’s never met my 26 year old breasts! He'd have loved those. I have only a few years left before I’ll have to start having sex keeping my bra on, even when I’m lying down. What a ' orrid prospect.

Ok, I was never someone who had to complain that men stare down at my front (they’re within the norm and I didn’t flash them around like that) but I admired them every day. We can all fiddle with bras and stuffing but I don’t care how tey look under clothes, gosh I could wear a Dolly Parton bra if that was the case. No, I’m not into deceiving anyone else, it’s just me and the mirror or me and my hands on them when I fall asleep. These past few weeks I’ve cupped them a lot, wonder if anyone’s noticed at work for example. Probably just regularly to check they’re not diminished further. The Brazilians know about all this. There, their very famous plastic surgeon Ivo Pitanguy, does pro-bono work for a few hundred dollars instead of thousands because he believes it’s every woman’s right to have beautiful and FIRM tits. Maybe there’s small consolation in the fact that I’m not dating a tits obsessed Brazilian or I’d be ordered to have the boob job or else. But surgery is out of the question for me, I don’t want to feel anything alien under the skin, but it’s a sad truth that you cannot have a 26” waist and huge tits naturally (a D cup would make me very happy to be honest, C was never enough) or some people do but very few. Latino girls seem to have the proportions right.. when they’re young. You want D? Then the rest of you looks like Martine McCutcheon. You look like Gwyneth? Then you have to go to the surgeon.

This is not fair and is an especially boring as has replaced worry about thighs and even saggy knees. Considering this level of preoccupation it’s a given that I’ll get breast cancer and they’ll both have to be removed and I’ll just not allow it and will die instead.