"The grass is always greener on the other side."
Maybe sometimes it is greener. But ... it usually isn't. Here's what I figure:
I'm a small chested broad. (Side note: HUGE fan of calling myself a broad. Starting right now.) I've got that Gwen Stefani flat chested situation. I got it from my Momma, who is {self proclaimed} "flat-as-a-board". I have always been fascinated by boobs. Seriously - my whole life. My Grandma says I even used to cop a feel at hers ... #crazykids (Don't get caught up in that silly detail. I'm not hot for my beloved Grandmother ... I was just a kid, and boobs were unusual to me.) <-- They still are!
It's curiosity. It's wonder. What's it like to have big breasts? What does that feel like?
From my side of the fence - I can only imagine it to be ... spectacular!!! For starters, you can wear a plunging neckline and showcase your lumps, not just your skin/bones. Cleavage people, cleavage! Boys notice you, and when you walk - you bounce! Plus: swimsuits and bras ... gahhh! You fill them out! You big-boobied-babes are LUCKY! Boobs are beautiful ... and I have pined for a nice robust pair of them my entire adult existence.
BUT! I typically peer over that side of the fence when I'm feeling lousy about MY boobies. It's easy to imagine they're all fun, and wonderful - when I'm feeling blue about my tots - like if I'm at the beach and I look over and I see a girl with some big round things. Or at dinner and a gal walks by wearing a dress that she is filling out. BOOBS, they always stand out! Or basically if I just see a photo with Salma Hayak. (That girl is RIDICULOUS! Can I be recreated and come back as her!?!) What I'm overlooking - is that the big boobed girls of the world have probably gazed at my side of the fence, and wished their tatas away. {Don't.}
I have no back pain when I get home. My bra straps do not leave an indentation in my shoulder - usually because I don't even wear a bra. ::GASP:: I can exercise without even noticing that I have boobs. I talk to men all the time, and they're always making eye contact with me. All this, AND I nursed a baby for half a year. I have fully functioning, micro-mammories! Thankfully - I married a dude who prefers booty to booby - for which my cup runneth over.
Really - my tiny tots, your huge humps ... they're boobs. They're different, but they're the same fruit, ya know? So my grass is green - and maybe yours is greener - but sheesh! It's all grass. Grass = Boobs
Comparisons are dumb. That's what this post is about.
