An Observation

My Beloved, on reading my last post, pointed out a curious fact I had not previously realized: all three of the women I count as close friends are very buxom. I am not. Most emphatically not. Perhaps I'm trying to compensate for something.

It's entirely possible. I used to be a B-cup, just barely. When I was breast-feeding, I enjoyed moving up to a C - I liked the curves and cleavage, and nursing breasts are very firm. Since weaning the Short One a year ago, however, I now shop in the A section. My breasts disappear entirely under a heavy sweater. On the bright side, at 37 I can go braless with impunity, or run down the stairs without taking out an eye. And I can sleep lying on my stomach.

Still, I miss my curvier days.