The girls

Since I was about twelve I've had them. They've grown up with me, in theory. Through thick and thin, good relationship and bad, weight loss (they never seem to get any smaller though), they have stood by my side. They have no choice-they're my boobs. When I was in high school I lost a lot of weight before prom, and excitedly went to find a dress. Problem was, my waist was a size 10, and my chest still needed a size 14. My mother ended up taking it in a bit, and I looked like Cinderella Barbie-teeny middle, huge tits. Another girl had on the same dress, and popular guys, because I was pretty much falling out of the top of it, kept coming over to tell me I looked better than she did. Not that I cared, we laughed at them for it, but it was just a funny thing to happen, to look back on. They have gotten the attention of the bartender to order drinks, gotten me free drinks at that, parts in shows, looks and compliments. I'm sure they've gotten me at least one job. So as much as I'd like the rest of me to be a bit smaller, they fit me well, I enjoy my 50's girl figure, and especially the way I fill out a dress.

So, today, I am grateful for my breasts. Someday after breast feeding they'll not be quite as pretty, but on that day, I'll be grateful for the little brats that made them that way. Hopefully ;)