you know, I'm just a college gal trying to be trendy, but when I follow trends, I either wear my size and look like a bimbo or wear a bigger size and look like a frumpy imbecile. But frankly, I just don't think that I can win. And I'll take some responsibility - I don't hide these sweater-stretchers at all. But I wish that my chest wasn't so noticeable. But as a whole, I think I give off the "probably-does-20-minutes-of-cardio-but-can-easily-eat-3-pieces-of-pizza" vibe. Yeah, the jiggles on my thighs could reach dangerous levels on the Richter scale and without 3 layers of sports bras, I can't exercise without giving the general public my own personal rendition of "Bounce It" by Juicy J.
I mean, don't misunderstand: I love my body. But I would prefer to be known for something other than a simple act of engineering by God or for something that is not usually associated with porn, nipples, or lactation (ew). And don't get me wrong, sometimes I like being known. And as if these larger-than-life-shoulder-boulders weren't already a bother, to say the least, they end up being one of the most preeminent and recognizable definitions of my identity. Not only are they an evil to our fragile spines, but they are a true villain to our bank accounts, and the investments made are comparable to our grandma's table-cloth wrapped in enough underwire to construct an electric fence. Big boobs take up way too much space they make exercise an act of engineering, rather than fitness they, unfortunately, are a regular point of conversation they make everything I wear look like a Playboy campaign, and the boob-sweat could fry a batch of McDonalds french fries. And don't even get me started on going braless. strapless bras, bathing-suits, sports bras? Well, just forget about those. Of course, a busty chest is, first and foremost, inconvenient.
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