Lucky readers--three posts in one day!

A few thoughts about boobs:

about boobs.

For those of you who haven't seen the pic, it's here: http://s131.photobucket.com/albums/p298/lilredjammies/?action=view¤t=Sept12_2007_2.jpg

I've lost 145 pounds in the last thirteen months, and not much of it has come off my chest. A friend saw this pic, and so did her hubby, and they both had the same reaction.

"That's a great pic, but you'd be overwhelmingly hot if you got a better bra."

I will admit, the thought of being "hot," something I have never been in my life, was tempting, and I asked someone for bra-buying advice, and looked around a bit, and finally decided against bra-shopping.

I've never liked these things attached to my chest.

I had them early, and when I was in junior high and had to walk past the high school to get to choir practice, the jocks would catcall as I went by.

The sheer weight of them hurts, whether they're in or out of a bra.

I've rolled over on them wrong in bed, had them get caught in doors, knelt on by my ex, etc.

They're not sexy to me. Fat is not a responsive type of flesh. Granted, my nipples are sensitive, but they are a tiny portion of my boobs, and there is very damn little a man can do with them that has any sexual effect on me.

Putting these floppy things in a tight, structured, lift-and-separate, earthquake-proof, steel-belted bra is false advertising.

A fancy bra is equal to TEN bubble bars, which is twenty baths.

So, as long as they're not actively south of my waistband, and until I have reached my goal weight and can have these ****ing things reduced, I will wear my old bras and take them off the minute I get into my house.