BOOBS

Why they wouldn't just pick a size and stick with it I don't know. I do know, however, that there is no rhyme or reason to their bad behavior. I spend a lot of time in search of logic in this world and I see none here. I feel outsmarted by those beautiful things. I am too forgiving of the hell they put me through.

And no-one tells you this. You go to the store and they are like "Yeh, you are wearing the wrong size. You should be wearing this other (almost the same) size." So you feel like you're on top of it, "Leave it to the professionals," you think. So you begrudgingly spend a couple of hundred bucks and think you won't have to go back to that awful mall for a year. WRONG! It could happen any time. After you happily throw all the 'wrong' size bras to the back of the drawer and look forward to a satisfying, low-drama relationship with the new ones, is when they start to fuck with you.

Sure, you might put on your new lacy black number and have yourself a great night out. And everyone is like, "Have you lost weight?", but you just thank them and not tell them that it's just all in the attitude and you are feeling pretty pleased with yourself tonight. You start to think you're getting the upper hand and may win this battle ones and for all. Don't be fooled.

It could be the next day or the next week. You put on some tunes, take a shower and go about happily singing along while digging through the closet and thinking you'll totally be ready to go out in about 30-45. So you put on your still new but tried and tested undergarments and the rest of your elaborate outfit. Then you realize that something doesn't feel right. The bra straps won't stay where they should and doesn't even feel like you're wearing one. So you peel off all layers to get to the source of the problem and sure enough find that you are wearing a bra that's way too big for you. How is that? So it's back to the drawing board, or rather to the back of the drawer for those 'wrong' bras you are so happy you didn't throw away. An hour and a half later you finally walk out of the house confused and attempt to forget the whole thing and embark upon a fun night. But, on this night, no-one asks you if you've lost weight, even though you probably have since you are wearing the smallest bra you own.

And that's that. They are evil.

Once I figure out what makes them grow, the secret ingredinet so many ladies are hoping exists, I will be laughing all the way to the bank.* If only they could talk, would they tell me?**


* Disclaimer: no-one ever does that.
Even if you're putting lots of money in the bank, it's still no fun going in there.

**Is it beer, booze, food, sex, hormones, pot, shrooms, the weather, .....what is it?