Or, at least, my boobs. I could talk about breasts in general, but a lot of people, much smarter than I, have already done that. See?

The Good

My boobs are a big part of my identity. They are probably the first thing people notice when I walk into a room, especially if I'm wearing the right shirt.

They are powerful sacks, I tell you. Undoing one extra button can do wonders in a girl's day. I do find it exciting when I catch someone's eye drifting downward. Yes, it can also be annoying and rude, but I'd rather that they look at my tits rather than my ass - at least then I'd know they were doing it.

They are a source of endless pleasure. Shockingly, it's only been since Mr. Wonderful that I've truly learned to harness the power of the boobies. I suppose it's also because I know he gets as much pleasure out of them as I do. I suppose I am unique. Due to the.. erh.. ample surface area, there are lots of fun things to do with them.

They are home to the tiniest nipples in the world. It's true! They are not proportionate. I've learned to love them, though. I was so jealous of women who would wear sweaters with rock hard nipples poking out. I found that so sexy. That never happened to me. It was only in university, during one of our many naked parties, that we all took nipple inventory and determined that yes, in fact, I have really small nipples. It's like they are afraid, or shy. They are a delicate pink, point down, and are never hard, unless I am naked and very aroused. I think, though, if my nipples were larger, they'd make my breasts intimidating. My little pink nipples seem to be the equivalent of a Japanese school girl. Small and cute, but a freak in the sack.


The Bad

They used to be source of shame. My boobs grew when I was 9 or 10 years old, so I automatically stood out. I was tall for my age, but still no less awkward. My classmates were, I suppose, naturally curious about these new, erh, developments, and chased me down at recess trying to unsnap my bra.

I remember one year, I received a bra from my aunt for Christmas. I unwrapped it Christmas morning, and I was mortified. Thinking back, I can't possibly imagine why, but I do remember the embarrassment. I find this ironic now, as I was always intrigued by big boobs when I was young. I would stuff socks in my shirt and prance around my room. Or I'd lie down to see what they'd look like from that perspective.

They limit my choice of undergarments. Have you ever tried to buy a push up bra for my cup size? It's rather difficult. What's that? Sorry, you have to speak up. Oh, right - Why the fuck would you need a push up bra?! Well, that's a good question. I figure that a push up bra would give me that corset, super-sized cleavage look. I had tried a few, but they just don't cut it.

The Ugly

Of course, there are some minor physical problems that the large-chested have. I have dents in my shoulders from carrying these boulders around. There are also the minor back problems. I've never felt pain in my back, but I know that my posture is affected. Sitting up straight for long periods can be, well, a pain in the neck.

Boob sweat. In the summer, I can sometimes get heat rashes underneath and between my boobs. They can sometimes get itchy, so that I will get bright red marks if I scratch too much. Jogging, as I've posted of before, is, literally, an exercise in futility.

Finally, just before my period, they tend to get sore, especially my nipples. I sometimes have to gently remind Mr. Wonderful to go easy, as the once pleasurable turns painful.

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So, there you have it. The good, the bad and the ugly. Despite everything, I don't think I'd ever give them up.