You know how some fat girls have awesome racks, so it kind of tricks the world into not seeing their fatness, or at least overlooking their fatness for the sake of their chesticles? I have never been one of those fat girls. I’m more of a belly and butt kind of chubster, and the thing I’ve longed for most in life is a nice bosom. I’ve plagued the husband with pleas for a boob job, I spend significant time each day examining them, forcing them into bras w/ disgusting gel inserts, etc.
But then I got pregnut. (I like to say pregnant like the girls on MTV’s horrible, yet addictive Teen Mom say pregnant.) And man alive, if my boobs aren’t finally meeting my expectations! People may bitch and moan about their achy, heavy boobers, but I don’t mind the tenderness and itchiness and weird veins and myriad of other freaky crap if it means that I’m gonna get another cup size out of this. BOOBS!
I’m incredibly happy about this. I haven’t had to add padding to my bras for weeks, and they seem to just be getting bigger. It’s like I’m going through puberty all over again, only this time it’s working! I’m especially fond of the fact that regardless of my junk-laden diet, I don’t seem to be putting on much weight elsewhere (though my pants refuse, REFUSE to button…) and it’s all in the breasties.
God bless you, little baby, for all the miracles you are and will bring. And thanks for the nice, new rack, too.
(I’m probably going to get a lot of pervert spam for this one. But I can’t help it, it’s like all my wishes are coming true in one fell swoop!)