Boo-bs

Stupid Victoria's Secret.
I look forward to their damn semi-annual sale with such anticipation... and when it finally arrives, all they have in stock are a bunch of ugly ass bras and panties that make you wonder what kind of blind, limbless (because of the fabrics they use. You have to be unable to feel in order to think some of that shit is acceptable) idiot came up with such ridiculous concepts (like, really, you're going to try to sell me underwear with glitter all over the crotch area? Come on now... we all know glitter is the herpes of arts and crafts... so to purposely put it near your cookiebox is just... who the fuck convinced them that was a good idea?).
Although... I probably shouldn't blame them entirely for the distressing selections I must choose from... I'm partly to blame in this... sort of.
I made the mistake of going on the second day of the sale.
I'm a dickhead for even thinking there will be decent bras by then... fucking women attack that sale like hawks, prime example being that one time that one lady smacked the panties out of my hand a couple of years back. Bitches don't play when it comes to cheap underwear. Maybe one day I'll turn into one of those chicks... but for now, I'll just stand next to the $5.99 bins and stare at them in disgust as they pillage the store.
My delay also allows the multitude of strippers in this town to get to the bras first.
It appears my size is quite popular with the vast number of plastic females who chose the size of their ta-tas. They get to the cool bras before I do, and I'm left to choose between the neon-colored bras or the animal-print bras... which... they're not that bad... if you want to be rescued from a deserted island and you need something to wave down a plane.

You'd think that at my age I'd have this game down... but I seriously underestimate the number of chicks who buy DD bras. The freakin' number is increasing... exponentially. Probably good for guys, but bad for me because now I'm forced to get the bullshit bras since the good ones are taken.

I was stoked when I bumped up to a C back in high school... even if it took a minute to get used to them (I had always thought I was going to be flat-chested because Mom is... almost a board, as are her sisters. The chicks on Dad's side aren't big either... so I'm pretty much an anomaly. Being that I had been flat most of my life, I had always had the habit of cleaning my hands off on my chest-- I'd just swipe my hands up there and I'd be good. Well, once the C's came in, I'd still have this habit [no, I wouldn't be wiping BBQ sauce off my hands on my shirt, but I would wipe off water, or salt/sugar, sweat... that sort of  stuff], I'd venture to say it got worse because I now had more surface to swipe. I continued to do this until one fateful day in 9th grade Biology. This year I'd wear nothing but black. When dissections came around, we had to use latex gloves... and it was probably my first time wearing latex gloves... so I didn't know of the STUPID white powder in the gloves to ease the sweating. I was still working when the bell rang for us to go to the next class, and since my next class was clear across campus, I rushed to remove the gloves. I felt the powder on my hands, but I couldn't see it, so I did a quick swipe on my chest and rushed to class. I noticed a lot of people, especially guys, double-take when I rushed past them, but since I was in such a hurry, I didn't bother to get paranoid. I sat through THREE classes... up until I went to P.E. and walked past a mirror to see what was calling the attention. There they were, on my solid black shirt: two white hand-prints on my chest... each appearing to cup a breast. I was fucking mortified... and PISSED no one had informed me of the problem. Some can argue "Well, I thought that was how the shirt was supposed to be" and to that I say Shut the fuck up! Really? Me?! The timid quiet girl wear a shirt like that on purpose? Don't kid yourself. Anyway, this was a tough lesson to learn now that I had boobs. Note to self: while cupping your breasts in order to wipe your hands clean, MAKE SURE YOU DON'T LEAVE A PRINT!).
Then stupid Veronica decided to get fancy... and wasn't happy with her C status... and grew to a D freshman year of college. Betty was forced to oblige, and I... well... I was uncomfortable... especially once the OLD MEN started noticing me and the girls. That was just... gross.
But no... the growth was not over, since Veronica is a greedy, ambitious cunt. She then gunned for the DD shortly after... Betty only half-assed followed... and so... I'm stuck at stripper size.
Just fucking lovely.

I can't wait until E's and F's start getting popular with strippers... maybe then I'll be good to shop for nice looking bras at reasonable prices in this damn city.
Fucking hoes.