Tuesday Titter

Today my boobies are making me titter. HeeHee boobie.

Disclaimer: The information contained in this post is not pertaining to the seabird belonging to the Sulidae family - Booby. I am actually referring to the breast

Now, I know you all are wondering why I don’t go for the obvious joke here and say, “Tits make me titter.”

Well, the word tit is too bovine. I don’t chuckle when I hear it. It conjures up images of a farmer straddling a small wooden stool tugging at pink utters dangling from a manure laden cow. It makes me think of strippers and porn and naughty things. Tit is just not funny.

Boobie is funny. Boobie. Boobie. Boobie.

Anyway… on a normal day, my boobies are NOT a source of amusement. We aren’t on good terms most of the time. They give me backaches. They are large and awkward and they get super sensitive every 21 days or so. But, today… today they are hilarious!

First, a little background…

Since my family tree is filled with the genes of buxom beauties, I have inherited a pair of saggy large breasts. This “gift” of large bosoms poses challenges when I am hunting for a sling in which to hoist them for long periods of time.

It needs to lift. It needs to separate. It needs to have cup space for gargantuan sacs of mammalian flesh. Strong wire and fabric are key components. Pretty lace, bows and pearls take a backseat. You need to have a good balance of structure and comfort. The perfect bra would probably be made of steel beams covered in marshmallow clouds.

Since I live in the real world and marshmallow makes me sticky, I settle for the Balconette from Lane Bryant… this bra is AMAZING! It is like a large-breasted NASA engineer designed it after taking a trip to the moon where her boobies defied gravity. It lifts. It separates. It comes in large lady sizes.

I love the Balconette. I have several.

Today. They were all in the clothes hamper. I decided to wear the poor man’s Balconette that I picked up at a different store.

Boobies lifted – check
Comfort and adequate coverage – check
Separated – CHECK. CHECK. AND DOUBLE CHECK.

They are separated alright! VERY SEPARATED. There is at least a 3 inch space between them. Not only that, the cups are angled freakishly outward.

One boobie is pointed to my right arm. One boobie is pointed to my left.

My nipples are pointed at 45 degree angles away from my body like butterfly antennae.

If you stood next to me, I may whack you in the arm accidentally and then try sheepishly to explain that I wasn't trying to get your attention. You might then look at me and wonder what the heck is wrong with my enormous rack and why I think it is acceptable to go around whacking people with them. It is better that I stay at my desk.

I am assured by my sister that I am hallucinating and am the only one seeing this, but I laugh every time I look down.

Boobies. Angled Boobies. TeeHee