A letter to my boobs.

Screen Shot 2014-06-18 at 10.02.22 AMDear Bosom,

Last night as I carved up a lasagna, I got a call from my friend and writing mentor Mrs Harmer. She gave me a good dressing down regarding my post from yesterday where I likened my body to a block of flats. She was not having a bar of it.

“You have a magnificent bosom!” She told me. I told her that my bosom was actually the balconies of my block of flats, and she told me to shut up, but used far far more colourful language.

We went on to discuss whether the word BOSOM was a singular, or a plural, and we both went on to agree that you don’t have bosoms, you have a bosom. SINGULAR! And that would be you.

I know that you love it of an evening, when you spring forth from that bra like two horses jump from the barriers come race day. Sweet, sweet relief. I can almost hear you sigh.

And to be honest, you are very valuable real estate around these parts. I cannot lie on the couch with you, without someone trying to snuggle into you. If the marketing department at Freedom had any idea how snuggly you actually are, they would make a couch, or at least a range of soft furnishings, based on the traits that you posses.

You provide an area to stuff a twenty in, when I wish to go to the shops but do not want to take a handbag.

You often yield lost tasty morsels of food!

But sometimes you make if difficult to sleep on my stomach, which is no big deal I suppose, because I tend to sleep on my side.

Sure, you get shitty when I try to do huffy puffy, and you go a bit feral once a month when NO ONE IS ALLOWED ANYWHERE NEAR YOU OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL LASH OUT LIKE A RABID DOG….. And sure, you have given me a little trouble in the past, throwing in a little lump here and there, just to keep life interesting. (But if you could stop that, that would be terrific thanks Bosom.) But you are appreciated by many, for many different reasons.

And as you continue on your journey south, I will try to lift you up as best I can. For you provide that magical asset of cleavage, so required when wearing low, and v-neck tops. Turtle necks are not your friend, and will never be.

So thank you boobs, bosom, fun bags, whatever you prefer to be known as.

I will not call you “balconies” ever again.

You are loved.

Love

Me.

xx

How do you feel about your boobs?

Tell me all about it!