“Feel my tits.”
“I am not going to feel your tits,” I told my co-worker (in the ad department, of course), who had just purchased herself a new pair of ta-tas.
“Oh, come on, they’re almost lifelike!”
I wanted to say that nothing on her was almost lifelike, but common sense prevailed.
Sadly, she’s not the first woman to shake her brand new money makers at me, telling me to go on ahead, take a feel.
I was talking to my very good friend Shera Lee, who happens to be a Hooters waitress, about my co-workers new twin obsessions.
She just shook her head knowingly. “Yes,” she said. “They get new boobs and go mad with power, but wait her out. It passes.”
“When?” I demanded. “She keeps hovering over my computer and I’m afraid she’s going to put my eye out!”
Apparently, there is a New Owners Guide to Store-Bought Ta Ta’s with an entire checklist of things you must absolutely do right away to ensure that your new boobs are working properly.
- Take an inventory to ensure that there are in fact two of them, and they are relatively symmetrical and of the same size.
- Run right out and buy a sports bra. Lots of them. You’ll never want to wear anything else again.
- Head straight to your bank and stand in line at that snotty teller who always ignores you and lay those bad boys right up on the counter and whisper, “I’d like to make a deposit.”
- Join a gym. Not to exercise, silly, to lean all over the equipment and make that man who’s been ignoring you drop a barbell on his big toe.
- Purchase additional mirrors for home and office, so that you can see your new store-boughts from every angle, and as an added bonus, your office mates will, too.
- You’ll need constant pressure checks on the silicone level of your new hooters, which can only be accomplished by asking total strangers and unsuspecting co-workers to, “Go ahead, give ‘em a feel.”
The problem with a boob job is that after you get your brand new knockers, everything else starts to look a little shabby, and pretty soon your getting all your dangling parts nipped, tucked and sucked.
Which is fine.
But please, for the love of gawd, don’t ask me to feel your new flat stomach.