You name them, I have them.
I was a very well developed child. At 12/13 I distinctly remember my step mum taking me to M&S for some breast bonding action. I left with two 32C bras, my step mum was horrified, I had actually beaten her on the tittie stakes and when announcing this my dad was nearly sick on the escalator in Lakeside.
Since that day my tits have become a major fascination for friends, family, men, babies the occasional cat and dog and myself. There are a few issues around actually having tits. When I say that, I’m talking anything from a D cup upwards.
Underwear: Its unlikely that you’ll own more than 4 bras at one time that actually fit.
The problem with large bra’s is that, they are just fucking ugly and there’s a 90% chance they will not fit. They come in 3 colours, white, black and beige. The straps are as thick as a regular sized cock and they are about as discreet as an Always Night time sanitary towel with wings.
: Aside from that fact that its a medical issue, its just fucking irritating. I spend my life re-adjusting my bra, hoisting it, pulling it, adjusting the strap. All because, ‘my back hurts’. Everytime I say those two words, I hate my self.
Suffocation: You will die if u sleep head down, on ur side. Lola was a real human. She died a real death.
Clothing: You can not and should not EVER, not wear one. This rules out backless dresses. No amount of tit tape is holding that shit up.
Perving on ones self: (Not a real issue just only when people notice your doing it - like when men get caught playing with their balls in public) I have been clocked my colleagues idly looking down for moments at a time, just staring at my cleavage. Giving it a wink and then getting back on with what ever mundane shit I’m doing.
Running/Sport: Its impossible and just fucking embarrassing - dont even think about stepping near a trampoline. It hurts, if your not wearing some sort of industrial made harness your going to tear tissue.
Sagging: The thought of it it keeps me awake at night - I have come to accept that I will probably have to sell one of my well breastfed children later in life to pay to have them scooped them back off the ground.
Babies: Any baby that comes with 5 meters of you will try and attach it self to your nipple with its small gummy gob, much to the embarrassment of your self and their lactating, crying mother.
Social Responsibilities: My mum told me once about these Romany gypsy women who are 600 years old and sit around taking it turns to breast feed their daughters and grand daughters children. If the economic crises carries on and we can’t afford food - are the larger breasted women of this country going to be hooked up to milking machines?
Also cunty little pricks who were blessed by god with 2 aureoles and 0% of tit flesh write shit like this.
On the plus side of having tits.
- I wont be paying for a tit job
- They make this brilliant clapping noise during sex
- If you want a man to do something, the smallest amount of tit flesh with secure it.
- Curvy women reign over skinny chicks 100000%
- I never heard a rap song about flat chested chicks with flat arses.
- They are great to play with when bored.
- I get a pretty good reaction when licking my nipples in public
So the fact that you’ll a only ever own one set of matching lingerie that you’ll have to hand wash your bra’s once a month after your ‘special love making’ sex sessions when he jizzes all over your jungas, doesn’t really matter. You got titties.
A good friend of mine’s, night @the Haunt, Brighton. The name of the night says it all and Ive recently bullied them into using my tits for the flyers - I may have left brighton, but my wangers remain.
If I had been having as much sex as you girls when I was your age, I would have prolapsed.
—mum. the sick bitch
Vikki Blows, a 5ft something (I’m being generous) little sex bomb. I am lucky enough to no this little fire cracker. Every time I am graced in her small but oh so erotic presence, i walk around grabbing at my pum like an overexcited 14 year old rude boy. Miss Vikki, not just a great pair of boobs but an absolute doll.
So. I wanna get my shit inked, and when i say shit. I mean shit. I want the top of my shitter stained in a blue ink from a man with facial implants.
I have been thinking and talking about it for a about 4 years. The range of different designs have ranged from having the ever so classy NIMMO down my forearm like one of my fellow female visitors to Belmarsh on a Saturday. An ex lovers name on my right cheek ( I did test this with Henna in 2006 - he loved it, I felt like a piece of meat when pulled up my skirt, spanked my arse and showed the man in Stonebridge), the last a cluster of gems to go on my arm, side or bum crack.
I have decided on 3 diamonds coming out of my arse, not a bait as a the ‘I want one on my lower back - sexci!’ placing of a tattoo. But pretty dam close. Much to the shock and dismay of my friends and relatives, I think it will look pretty nice. But even as I write this, I am thinking that my side would look better. Any way this piece (which I will regret) is being drawn up as we speak. The problem is diamonds are forever.
Since my tirade on twitter started I have met a few cool heads. This is one of them, apart from wearing a brilliant wig he also has very cool music taste. Its good to see someone blogging cos they are genuinely interested in their subject. And not like me, who is doing it because other wise I am worried they are going to have to start drilling holes in my skull to release my mental over flow.
Plus - hes called Coxhead. I mean, I was gonna be at least intrigued.