I’ve wished for bigger boobs ever since I realized at about age 15 that my A cups were all I was going to get. My "condition" is a genetic hand-me-down from my mother.
Padding was an option (“falsies” as we called them then), but when I was single and dating, there was always that moment of truth. My least favorite memory was the guy who, as I exposed myself both literally and figuratively said, "You have really small breasts." Really? I’m shocked, but thanks for bringing that to my attention. The perfect rejoinder, of course, would have been to comment about his shortcomings. But, unfortunately, he had none. On a scale of 1-10, he was an 11, maybe a 12, now that I think about it. Probably why he was so arrogant.
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