I remember when I first got breasts. They came along quite uninvited one summer. I tried to crush them down by pulling my singlet tighter, but no. They would not leave me in peace. Now, thanks to them, I have suffered a thousand indignities. When it's cold they allow my nipples to poke through my T-shirt - to my chagrin. In the street they act like beacons to drunks. One day a man remarked, as he passed me,
'Phoar! She's got big tits!'
I don't know who was more embarrassed, me or his girlfriend.

I never asked for breasts. Not once did anyone give me a form to fill in to order a set. They thud heavily up and down when I run. According to many of the magazines they are too saggy. No child has ever supped at one or the other.

Worst of all they mark me before I have a chance to express an opinion. My breasts speak for me. I don't hold thoughts inside my head because I am me. Instead I think the way I do because I'm female, middle-aged, large, squat. Because I have tits.

When my breasts were perkier I had the opportunity to use them in order to influence conversations with the opposite sex, to my advantage. I never once took that path. Now, ironically, they merely get in the way.

I dream of living as an Amazon, removing a breast for a noble cause. The truth of the matter is more likely that, when the time comes, I will have no say as to my breasts being removed. Just as I had no say in their being installed.

Time and again I remind my lover, and myself, that my chest is not an entity separate from me. It's a part of who I am. All a lie. I am more than my breasts. I am more than my legs, back, buttocks, hair, teeth and arms. Without them I would not cease to be. I am words on a page - free flowing thought. When I am gone a part of me will live on in these lines. Until the end of everything.

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EXERCISE: Write about breasts.

This is very nice, and to the point, Argy. I've felt the same things. The way breasts mark you, long before you've had a chance to express who you really are. I'm sure that mine have affected my life in ways that I don't even know.

I like this line:

quote:

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Time and again I remind my lover, and myself, that my chest is not an entity separate from me.

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In this we futilely strive and fail, because in a way, they are. They seem to have developed a purpose in human relations that goes beyond what they were originally designed for, and that’s not something easily shaken.

( I’m having fun with puns today.)