I have no idea what suddenly made me want to talk about my two girls, but here it is. I truly love my fucking breasts. They've been with me through thick and thin, literally, and I keep them around, even though they tend to pull me down at times. They make me feel sexy, but sometimes, they make me feel matronly. They look good dancing and at times, they strut their own stuff. So I'm going to give a shout out to the ladies that make the boys take notice.
We weren't always friends. There was a long period of my life when I had no friends to call my own. Sadly, I looked around the middle school locker room and noticed that I seemed to be the only one without friends. Most boys didn't notice me because I didn't have my friends to help boost my popularity, because you're a nobody if you don't have great friends. So I stayed to myself and dreamed of the day when I would be able to rub my crush's nose in my new friends' faces.
I even practiced getting to know my friends. Leggs pantyhose used to come in big, plastic eggs and I used to steal my mother's containers and stick them under my shirt, seeing what I would look like. I was slightly alarmed to think that there was a possibility that I would look like I had bullets smuggled under my shirt, but you can't pick your friends based on their looks, so I prepared for anything that would come along. I even heard girls at school talking about training for their friends by buying bras. Not understanding what they really meant, I snuck into my mother's drawer and grabbed a bra to see how it would help train me for the arrival of friends. If I had even a crumb of common sense, I would have realized that my mother's DDD bra that I could have easily curled up into and hidden away from sight might not be the best item for me to use. Either way, I decided to train like I was headed to the Olympics. I shoved t-shirts, because a whole box of tissue would have been no challenge for one cup, and a few pairs of socks into the device that fit around my waist like Batman's utility belt. Properly stuffed, I pulled up the straps and looked in the mirror. I was completely confused why looking like a cartoon character would help me train for friends. I gave up after the third time my right cup spilled the contents on the floor.
One day I began to notice that hugs were becoming a bit harder to give because I was experiencing a pain in my chest kind of like poking a really sore bruise. When I finally thought of why that could be happening, I raced to my room to peek to see if I had new friends on the horizon. I was disappointed to see the same things I always saw. I felt like it would never happen for me. I had seen adults that had gone their whole lives without ever having friends. Some even resorted to buying friends, but everyone could tell they were fake and nothing is worse than a fake friend. I went to sleep one night, praying, as always, for God to send me some friends. I was never picky, they didn't have to be perfect, they just had to be mine. My prayer was always the same, "Lord, please send me some real friends soon." One night, God answered my prayers.
I woke up and could barely move. Two strangers had snuck into my bed and I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do with them. After my mother found out how I had tried to train with her bra, she bought me a training bra of my own and I have to say, there was NO way that my little trainer was ever going to prepare me for what I had gotten. I was the new owner of two big, painful friends. My mother told me that we had to go shopping and I was kind of excited. My first chance to spoil my new friends! Turns out that we just went to the bra department and I had to try on a million of the confusing things to find ones that Mom told me would help support them. I was just hoping that I could find a way to keep anything from touching them because they REALLY didn't like to be touched by anything. None of my usual shirts seemed to fit my friends' style so we had to buy a couple of new shirts. Not cute ones, my Mom went cheap. I got button down shirts that I hated but had to wear because I couldn't get away with what I used to like. Damn friends were costing me a wardrobe.
Showering was a new challenge. I loved hot showers, but my friends didn't like water touching them, hot or cold. So I had to do things gently, or else they would protest and make me cry. I slept carefully at night because they didn't like certain positions, and they would wake me up painfully if I didn't lie in a position they preferred. They were some demanding bitches! I guess that's what people mean when they say you have to go through growing pains. I had to grow to accept these new painful friends, in the hopes that one day we would get along.
The first time I let people at school know that I had new friends of my own was a day I'd truly love to forget. I walked in proudly and watched as boys stared at me as if I had suddenly sprouted a chalkboard on my chest. They stopped talking to me completely and only ever talked to my friends. These bitches were stealing my thunder! Not to mention, they were still hard as hell to deal with. I couldn't play the way I used to, I had to run differently because the lazy bitches wouldn't pull their own weight and just jumped up and down like fucking huge cheerleaders and I had to keep my arm across them to keep them in their seats in order to run anywhere. They were no fucking help at all! So far, these friends had become more of a hassle than blessing.
We did have a fight once. It was the most painful fight I've ever had with them. It happened while looking through a slightly opened door as we were trying to look out for a surprise guest at a party. When I saw the guest coming, I leaned back to slam the door shut and tell everyone, but my friends didn't pay attention. I shut the door and they were still in the way! They screamed at me so badly, I couldn't stop tears from dripping down my cheek as I tried not to cry in front of a room full of little kids and strange adults. I went home as soon as I could and cried in my room while my friends continued to scream painfully at me. Those crazy bitches didn't get over that one for a few days!
Over time, we discovered that we could live together and even have some fun! Being young and having a mother like mine meant that I had to hide my friends most of the time and I didn't get to buy them pretty things until I was 18. Then I started buying them things that got to let them peek out and let the world know that they existed. They LOVED that! Not to mention that I introduced them to a couple of my boyfriends and they got along beautifully. I even let them have a bit of fun with a couple! Guys loved them but they paid more attention to me. I guess they realized that my girls really didn't have too much to offer in the way of conversation. Hell, I can go days without talking to them! But they did offer some interesting entertainment during special times with one of my boyfriends who eventually became my husband.
We've been through highs and lows. We've been through ups and downs. They've gotten me some lovely things at times like drinks, flowers, and I do believe that they had something to do with getting me jewelry! They've embarrassed me (demanding to be seen fully by dropping the strap of my dress to the side in front of a men's room at the ballet and again that same night at a restaurant where the same man from the men's room was eating dinner with his family as I passed his table. I have no idea if they had a crush on the guy and wanted to make sure that he noticed them or what, but that was the last time that I let them go out that dress!), they've gotten a chance to shine (showing off in a skimpy bra in the middle of thousands of drunk, horny men watching a chicken wing eating contest), and they've taken care of my kids (discovering that breastfeeding is a lot harder than it looks, but rising to the challenge!). We've come a long way together and we still have so much further to go. I hope they decide to get their act together and stop looking so droopy! They may be a pain in my ass (back, actually), but I love them dearly. I never leave home without them and I can't imagine looking sexy without their help. I love getting dressed up with them and making men purr, I even love when they decide to tease and drive Pat crazy! But most of all, I love that they are real friends, they never leave my side, even when I'm sick of them. I think it's a shame that so many women have fake friends because they can't feel the pride that having real friends like mine gives. I think I'm going to treat them to a little massage in the shower in a little bit, they deserve it! If you've got real friends like mine, give them a squeeze for me!
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