In a monster of a grump today. Something is painfully wrong with my back. Combination of this damned cold wet climate, desk posture, hefting my six-year-old monster Dell laptop and as many tall cans of beer as I could carry across western Germany, and having tits that are way too big for my frame. Although I don't expect to age any more gracefully or willingly than the next person, there's at least one sense in which I look forward to menopause - the second I know they won't be required for reproductive/feeding purposes anymore, I can think about getting rid of them.
I guess I'm complaining but I shouldn't. I'm pretty sure having big tits changes everything and generally for the better. If I wasn't so cheap I could fix aching backiness by buying a computer that weighed less than a fucking full-grown mastiff - really I'm only blaming the tits because they're right in front of me and I'm in a grump. And as for other drawbacks - unwanted male attention? Who doesn't get that? Other men get unwanted male attention. And on the other side of the coin, I know that the tits have been an icebreaker when I've been getting to know men I turned out to really like - an asset whose absence I'd have had to make up for somehow, with a scintillating personality or a more convincing ability to laugh at their crappy jokes, or something. I don't know.
The truth is, I don't know much about men in some pretty key ways. While I don't feel like they're some weirdo alien species, and I prefer them to women in many ways both practical and impractical, and I have a sense that I'm a very mannish sort of woman - all that notwithstanding, I don't know anything about scoring with men or talking to them in a seductive way or flirting or dancing cooperatively with them or anything. As far as I can tell, my entire modus operandi as a seductive being has been having big tits and then saying no to the men I didn't like, and sometimes pining helplessly for the ones who weren't tit men.
My adoration of the F-word aside, sometimes I'm glad in a basic way that I'm not single anymore. I really liked being single and had lots of fun at it and wouldn't have stopped if not for someone as great as him, but I had no idea what the fuck I was doing and really, I still have no idea what the fuck I was thinking half the time. Thank Jeebus my tits were watching my back.
6 commenti:
From reading you for a bit of time now, you are a wee bit mannish.
Girlish too.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=N_aIW33xGqs
The navy made a man of me.
Listen, Spliffey -- Let me tell ya something. You know how Oprah went on this kick about the right bra? ANYWAY, I decided to get a fitting despite that. And it turns out I was wearing the wrong cup size. And then I dropped some ducats on a few really good bras and lo and behold it has worked wonders not just for the ole' silhouette, but for MY BACK, too.
Who knew? Recommend it.
A bit weird when the chick is basically feeling you up, but worth it in the long run.
Euurgh - hate - Oprah - but - must - listen - to - common - sense - the pain! I'll try it out.
As though 'dancing cooperatively' wasn't enough to start me snorting (very attractive sound no?), your last line got me too. Does this make me a tit?
Only if you want it too, Dale!
Conversely, I am the mistress of unco-operative dancing.
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