Today I'm wearing a new dress and have just realised it makes my boobs look like they are in a hammock. Unfortunately, it's an eBay purchase, so I can't send it back.
My boobs seem to have a life of their own. They are a recent development, so I don't think I'm naturally busty. They are just fat. Two large mounds of fat. Think of a double helping of school dinners mashed potato, served using an ice cream scoop (remember that?), and increase to a 72 font.
It comes to something when a 'super curvy' blouse from wardrobe for big 'n busty sufferers, Bravissimo, doesn't do up. I brought a dress from there last year which made me look like I'd been swaddled. Like a large baby Jesus. In sky blue silk. Not a pretty sight.
I remember, years ago, watching a buxom victim of Trinny & Susannah being bundled into a Rigby & Peller dressing room and ridiculed for her poor bra choice. Apparently the unfortunate bra gave her a three tier bosom: original boob layer, under-boob recoiled fat layer and top stomach layer. 'Poor cow,' I thought, 'How did she ever let herself become THAT?'
Eight years and a triple bosom later, I've also started to grow a double stomach, which is an interesting development.
But let's not go there, girlfriend, am here to talk about my amazing boobage.
Soon I'll dispense with my 34FF (measured last year, so have probably grown exponentially with my stomach), and will starting using a Baby Bjorn type of construction. Much easier than fighting with a triple fastening when I can't even see past the boobs to my hands.
I'll just sling those puppies into a baby sling and off I'll go.
Am going to Google patents pending for Boob Slings. This time next year, I'll be a millionaire!
Blade Runner 2049
1 day ago