The other day, as I tried on a hot bustier (and realized I might need a little boosting) I thought … “it’s times like these when I wish I had some implants.”
It’s not that I want to look like some cheap trick, or that I want to flash my melons at Mardi Gras. And, I don’t want some big things bouncing up and down when I jog, and poking me when I try sleep on my tummy. But, just for one day, I’d like go sans bra without sacrificing that freshly pushed-up-and-in ooh la la that those lovely padded brassieres provide.
That’s the thing about implants. They’d make a neat accessory, but …
- You can’t try them on before you buy … and, uh, who in their right mind would pay $15K for something they cannot test-drive first?
- A doctor has to cut you open to install these babies – and sometimes, they cut your nipples right off! Who in the hell would let someone cut their nipples off, and then sew them back on later? Uhhh … one word: frankenipple!?!
- If you don’t like them after you buy, or if they do not fit the way you’d like, you cannot return them as easily as a pair of shoes.
- Fake boobs for extra cleavage? Pfft!! That’s the Wonderbra’s job.
So, to make a long story short (which could detail my visit to a strip club to see the weird fake girls ‘n boobs, my three-hour before-and-after photo session, the teardrop vs. round debate, my interviews with local plastic surgeons, and my follow-up appointment with awfulplasticsurgery.com): no cute top or push-up dream is worth going under the knife. These B’s are here to stay.
Besides, DCB says I have “ass,” and that’s what’s important.