Busty Me, Two Months Later

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No, the above isn’t a picture of me. It’s a statue at Treasure Island resort and casino, Las Vegas. But, curvy, wow.

Below are two pictures of me, with my new fake boobies. They’re not implants. They’re … outplants: bra stuffers. I’m getting used to their shape, size, weight, feel, etc. before I go further.

IMAG1653IMAG1656After two months of this, yesterday was the magical day I’d been waiting for.  Until now, I’ve always been giddily happy with my new boobies, even though (yes, I know) they’re even more fake than implants are.

But, yesterday was different. For the first time, I felt lazy when it was time to put my bra on.  I’d worn my favorite bra for enough days that it was due for laundry day yet again, and so I needed to choose another (and less-comfy) bra.  I chose one from my stash. It looked nice enough. It felt … not bad.  So, more out of routine than sheer delight, I put the bra on. Into it went my pretty boobies and … yay, I’d passed the basic test!  Even when the excitement wore off, did I have the discipline to still go through the process? Yes! It’s almost like these fake boobies are part of me now, like contact lenses might be for someone else.

By the end of the day, my shoulders were hurting. The bra straps had carved into my shoulders, ow. On a hunch, I weighed my fake boobies. They weighed a puny one-and-a-half pounds each. That’s almost nothing.  And yet, there I was, feeling sore.  By contrast, girls like Chelsea Charms have boobies that weigh approximately 30 pounds … each.  Wow.  That really puts things into perspective, for me.

I’ve always fantasized about owning a V-12 BMW 750iL.  And now I do, with all of the glory and the issues, including having to buy two replacement fuel pumps. Until I can get them installed the car is parked in my yard and has been for several months. The reality of the total ownership experience … it’s good to have the entire picture.

This reminds me of two specific friends / acquaintances (they’re right in that “middle ground”). They’re both nice ladies. They also have the same size boobs and they’re about the same age (beyond early 30s). One of the ladies admits freely to not having made bra-wearing a priority.  How do I say this nicely … it shows. Gravity, over time, is not kind. The other lady made bra-wearing a priority, and wow, does it show. Her breasts look perky and gorgeous, and even though she’s personally lovely anyway, boobies or no boobies, her lovely curves certainly add to the overall “wow” look. So, whenever I feel inclined to be lazy about wearing a bra, I think of these two extremes. Conclusion: bra-wearing is a good habit to maintain even if it’s sometimes tedious.

When I’m feeling less-realistic, I fantasize about having huge porn-star style breasts. If I wanted to be cynical, I might say that from then on I wouldn’t even need facial feminization surgery because nobody would look at my face anymore except maybe passport and security officials.

But, it seems to me that if one-and-a-half pounds of weight, times two, can be enough to give me sore shoulders, then I need to buy a better bra, and also be more cautious as to how bigger and heavier boobies would feel.

Although my plans to have  nice curves are congruent with who I am, I do suspect that my enthusiasm for an unusually large size might be: I’m overcompensating for a time when I hated being flat-chested and looking less feminine than I basically am.  Overcompensating is not necessarily a bad thing, as long there is basic self-awareness as to one’s decisions and the underlying elements.

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