So that's what they look like.
I also remember thinking about how my bedroom window is directly across from my male neighbor's bedroom TOO. However, in order to see mine he would either need a telescope or some intense binoculars. I ultimately decided against it.
I later encountered more voluptuous chesticles when I was finally allowed to watch the movie Titanic. I remember the scene where Leo Dicaprio draws Rose like one of his French girls wearing "this...only this."
Rose's boobs in the movie seemed to have backed up the theory that Thora Birch's boobs were perfectly normal in size and shape. This realization resulted in further plunging me into a life full of hopelessness and booblessness.
I discovered that men actually enjoy these large things and without them--well, you are kind of screwed. I was reminded via AOL Instant Messenger by some lovely classmates of mine that my small tots were but one of the reasons why the sixth grade boys were not hollerin' atcha girl (my chest, my acne & because I was just plain ugly they told me). "Was I worth nothing more than my bra size?" young Biddy Queen pondered.
I suppose not.
Of course, there was always the option of stuffing my bra with tissues but I always found that kind of lame. I tried it out once, I will admit. However, I made the big mistake of stuffing it on a day that I had a serious cold. The constant need to blow my nose overtook my desire to enhance my breasticles. By the end of the day, my tissues were put to a different use and my chest was back to their normal, pathetic size. In hindsight, I guess I could have just put the used tissues back into the bra if I was really going to commit but I suppose that is pretty disgusting.
The boob scene in Titanic also gave me unrealistic expectations about guys. I had myself thinking up until...yesterday basically... that I, too, would find my Jack and he will paint me naked like one of his french girls. I can not tell you how many times I brought men back to my dormitory, got out a pencil and paper and whipped off my clothes only to find that men were not feeling so artistically inspired at the moment. I even bought the fucking necklace for fuck's sake. But no, they were just not having ANY of it.
It's kind of creepy if you think about it. Men's obsession with boobs likely stems from some weird sexual maternal desire. Do we all just want to fuck our moms? Is titty fucking and titty sucking just some sick, incestual fantasy quest we all have about boning our mommies?
Okay, maybe I am just trying to make myself feel better. LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!! BYE!