Do I have time for a breast reduction before vacation?

I ordered swimsuits online so I could try them on and suffer privately, and perhaps call my therapist.

And I love knowing before I even open it that my breast is not fitting in there.

That’s adorable, though. You tried.

Wonder Woman’s gonna wonder who my boobs even think they’re kidding.

It’s adorable how I just ordered this as if, even in its largest size, it will ever EVER even fit right, let alone function as a sports bra. #HeavyBoobs

An apology on behalf of my breasts

Dear Everyone Who’s Told Me I Should Watch My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend,

I am so very sorry I didn’t listen. My entire life is canceled until I’ve seen them all.

Sincerest apologies from me and my heavy boobs,


As if “Fuller House” weren’t appalling enough…


At the same time…respect… 

Via Decider 

P.S. I saw a link for a porn parody of this over the weekend, but could not bring myself to click to watch Fuller Holes, even under the guise of “research.”

Gap in Reasoning

Email to friends: 

“I feel bad judging another woman, but this is one of the rare moments in life when I feel like a piece of clothing would look better on me than it does on the model. C’mon, Gap, that dress needs some breasts. You’re calling it the FIT & Flare, not the Sag & Flare.”

And seriously, no hatred intended. That woman can wear 8 million things I’d never dream of wearing. This observation comes from a place of, like, 75% mad jealousy, and only 25% “Goddamn, my breasts are fantastic.”

Classing up my cleavage

Yesterday I went shopping with friends and debated buying a dress:

Me: “It’s not too low-cut? I don’t look trashy?”

Friend: “Not at all. You could wear that to a wedding.”

Me: “I DO have to go to a wedding this summer.”

Friend: “There you go. And if you see an attractive man, you could just be like, ‘Hello, I am a classy lady here to celebrate the sacred union of two lives. And also, here are my breasts.'”