Breasts, funbags, boobs, puppies, hooters, honkers, bazumbers, jugs, melons, coconuts, you get my drift. We’ve all got them. They come in different shapes and sizes. Some provide nourishment for offspring.
I’ve lost quite a bit of mass from my chest area and don’t get me wrong I’m stoked. But they still give me grief. Put it this way my bra runneth over.
I’m struggling to find decent supportive swimwear. They either cut the circulation off in my boobs or offer no support whatsoever. Borrowed three tankinis from Mum and two cover half my boob with mountainous bulge going on. The third I’ll live with but I’m telling you there will be jiggling and wiggling at the pool today. Doesn’t help that there are men on the roof installing solar heating at the moment.
I don’t actually like the above photo. A real woman is anyone who identifies as women. If you’ve got big or small boobs you are a real woman. I could do that broom think hell I could hold a huge log. Good on you if you’ve got perky boobies or saggy baggies like me. No shame no judgment just different.