my rack

The first thing I did this morning was put on a bra because I really don't dig being whapped in the face by one (or both!) of my boobs.

Or as Daniel calls them, "bewbs".

The next thing I did was take it off again because I really don't dig having bits of myself smooshed out of my bra cups and into my armpits, so the NEXT thing I did was find that bra that never really fit before but now, aaaah, relief.

DON'T GET EXCITED

But!

The ONLY period in my LIFE I've ever EVER EVER willingly, no, desperately donned a bra fifteen seconds after standing up in the morning began almost exactly four years ago, and ended more than two years after that.

(also, holy canoli, you haul! Dig all those words! I used to WRITE STUFF *shockface*)

I'm not exactly all "OMGOMGOH!MAH!GAWD!". I'm more in the "Wow, would you LOOK at these things. How did THAT happen?" camp. I suspect too, that if I were a guy, I'd be STILL be standing in front of the mirror with my eyes bugging out of my head, what with the being smack bang in the middle of the "PHWAAAAR" zone and all.

There are no other signs of bunintheovenitude, so keep your hats on. Or not! I mean, I'm doing that Lift One Foot, Place It In Front Of The Other, Repeat thing for quite some time now, so I'd LOVE it if someone wants to get all excited, PLEASE DO! If you think the Boob Sitch is reason enough TO get excited.

the internet: BUT THEY'RE NOT THAT BIG.