Ironing Boards (Flat-Chested Women Unite!)
Yesterday, within the span of two hours I heard that two different women that I know (totally unrelated) have opted to get breast enhancement surgery. To be honest, these are probably the first women that I’ve ever actually known who have opted for the knife.
Now, I’m not here to judge anyone but, being the loudmouthed, outspoken advocate of Tiny Titties that I am, I can’t help but at least put in my two cents. The last time I can remember truly lamenting the small nature of my rack I was in middle school. It was torture as the cool girls sprouted huge, round, squishy boobs and I stood by, the perpetual ironing board.
Luckily, in high school I had the good fortune to rove with a band of gangly, skinny, flat-chested distance runners. Together we admired our streamlined silhouettes in the locker room mirrors, praising god for such blessed aerodynamicism. (I know that’s not a word. Deal.)
We dubbed ourselves the ironing board crew and occasionally loaned our somewhat unnecessary sports bras to the “bigger” girls when they forgot theirs. We dictated our own standard in which athleticism trumped sexuality and action was valued more highly than objectification.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love all you curvy ladies. But we’re not here to defend the C’s and D’s today. We’re here to stand in staunch support of the A and B cups of the world. Flat-chested women of the world, unite. Join me on the Ironing Board Crew as we spread A-cup love throughout the planet.
My girls are small, pert, firm and perky. Just the way I like ‘em. They leave my back in peace and stay clear out of the way when I headfirst dive into an ugly play at third base.