Throughout my life I have had to deal with well endowedness. I was the first to get a bra in my crowd. I had cleavage that started at my chin. I was looked upon with awe by my fellow female classmates in the sixth grade. They wished they were me or they wished they had boobies like me. Someone once said that the perfect size breast could carry a pencil under it. I could carry luggage and a small dog.
Throughout my life they, my boobies, have been there staring back at me. I have spent thousand of dollars "supporting" them. I have permanent dips in my shoulders. I could be carrying a purse, tip sideways and never lose the purse thanks to the many years of supporting them.
And then one day it happened. I don't when it happened. I am not sure if it happened suddenly or gradually when I wasn't paying attention. One day those lovely, milky white bosoms were staring at me, and then they were no longer looking at me. They were looking south at my toes. My toes are not that attractive, so there was no reason for them to adjust their gaze. It has been years since we have looked at each other eye-to-eye. I was told all I need is a better bra. I am beyond needing a better bra I need a carpenter and an iron worker.
And then when you think it can't get any worse, it does! When I lie down in bed they disappear completely. Apparently my chest is too hard for them and they have decided to escape under my arms and lie on the mattress. I should be happy because now when I lie in bed my face looks great. I think I will have all future pictures taken laying down.
My boobies have turned their loving gaze towards my toes and are hiding under my arms in bed. It couldn't get any worse, right? WRONG! The other day I was laying in bed watching TV and I suddenly got a pain in my chest, and then it traveled around to my back. I was thinking, "Oh, man, I hope this isn't a heart attack. I would hate to have the paramedics come in and find me watching RuPaul's Drag Race!" I was starting to get really worried because the pain was getting worse. Then I noticed my boob had disappeared completely under my arm, and when I put it in its proper place the pain miraculously disappeared.
I am fifty-four years olds. I am proud to be this age because my parents were informed that I wouldn't live past the age of sixteen. So I have outlived my life expectancy by decades and I don't mind telling people how old I am. I want to know at what point does one become old. Many say age is in your attitude. I have a young attitude. I am very young in my mind. The problem is no one has informed my body how young I think I am, and no one has especially told my boobies. They probably weren't listening. Along with losing their elasticity, they have lost their ability to hear.
Remember when I was a puppy how much I loved sitting on your boobies. I am a boob "man"!
The Flip Side
So that's what's staring at me when I lie my head in your lap and look up at you!