Boobs

Boobs.  I have them.  I hate them.  They are of no use to me.  My boobs have always been big but since I’ve gained weight, well, they’ve taken big to new proportions.  Now I’m not Beth the Bounty Hunter big (frankly, those things should be illegal) but I’m big enough.  I have never owned cute little bras from Victoria’s Secret.  I always think it’s comical when I walk into that store, a saleslady approaches me with “are you interested in a bra makeover?”  I always respond with “you’re not ready for me, now where’s the lotion?”  A bra makeover?  And I’m always asked by a little thing whose head is smaller than one of my boobs.  I would love a bra makeover by you!  Because I want you to head to the bar with your friends after work discussing the freak show that you measured today. 

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Ugh.  Boobs.  I’ve never been able to pull a cute little lacy number out of the bargain bin for $7.  The only thing worse than wearing these massive sand bags is trying to dress them.  My bras involve non stretch, heavily starched straps that I believe are made of cables that you see holding the Brooklyn Bridge up and underwire that I’m pretty sure is made of recycled helicopter blades.  Now that I’m older and have experienced many years of what bra not to get, I pretty much have it down to a science.  I march into the store, head back to the bras, find the one with a cup size that is large enough to hold a head of cabbage with no stretch material to be found on it and that’s the one I take into the fitting room and end up taking home. 

My boobs are a major hindrance to my exercise regimen.  Right now, I’m focused on walking because I really want to walk 5k’s this summer.  Outside of walking, I’m working my arms with some strength training and dabbling in a little yoga.  Yoga and boobs do not mix.  I’m twisting and stretching and my boobs are being smashed up into my throat.  The instructor says “relax and breathe.”  Relax and BREATHE?  The two are NOT mutually exclusive at this juncture!  Hell, my lungs have just dropped down into my ovaries waving a white flag yelling “WE SURRENDER!”  My thighs are laughing at this mess because at least I’m not blaming them this time. 

I once tried sit ups on an exer-ball.  Laying down went great.  Sitting up, yeah, that didn’t happen.  I did 10 reps crunching about 3 inches and rolled onto my side.  Jumping jacks?  That day was not pretty.  Laying on my stomach and doing reverse push ups?  Considering my front half is already 3 feet off the ground, there wasn’t a whole lot of room to go in reverse! 

Boobs.  They are a constant reminder to me that I have entirely too much body fat.  Too much body fat on my chest.  Around my heart.  Limiting my air intake.  My lungs have not fully expanded for years leaving me at risk for fluid in the lungs.  So I’ve been working on taking big, deep breaths to fully inflate my lungs.  I’m going to start doing a lot of chest presses – with this chest, I should be able to chest press a Chevette – but for now, I’ll work with 10 pound dumbbells.  I tried push ups but my knees are really hurting me lately so I’ll settle for the chest presses.  I must, I must, I must shrink this freaking bust!   

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