To Implant or not To Implant

Thank goodness I'm not referring to hair--my heart goes out to any woman who needs hair implants.  It also makes me think of Roald Dahl's book The Witches, where true witches have no hair and always wear gloves.  Anyway, I'm getting off track here.

This post is about my "friend."  Let's call her . . . Pacha.  "Why Pacha?" you ask.  Because Pacha sounds very sassy--like someone who wears big boots AND knows how to make soup.

My friend Pacha, wears a size one pants but has A minus boobs to match--literally.  She's very athletic.  She'll take almost any dare and she's always been against breast augmentation.  By the way, isn't that an ugly word?  Augmentation.  It sounds like they pull out an ironing board and iron your boobs to death!

Anyway, "Pacha" was always against artificial boobs, until one day nine years ago.  She was pregnant.  For the first time in her life, she'd gained a bit of weight.  Outside the birds chirped.  Sunlight wafted through the windows.  The house smelled like pumpkin soup, because as stated above, anyone named Pacha likes soup.

Pacha began walking down the stairs.  She patted her round belly and cooed to the baby.  She didn't expect it to happen.  She didn't expect a life-altering moment, but that's when it happened.  As Pacha descended those stairs, her boobs bounced--actually bounced.  Her life had forever changed.  She felt like one of the birds outside, like she could fly.  She smiled for weeks after that because she'd felt her baby kick and her boobs bounce!

So, now Pacha, that soup-loving dare devil, is done having children.  She's done breastfeeding and her boobs are back to an A minus--literally.  She can't get that first bounce out of her mind.  God gave her boobs, for nine years of pregnancies and breastfeeding she was made of gold.  But now . . . she's done and her boobs deflated until they were as flat as melted cheese.

I have a question for you, oh lucky people who own a set.  What would you do if you were Pacha?

Would you smile proudly.  Go out and buy a sword and a mace.  Be glad that you're one of the only women on this planet who was born to be Amazonian.  Heck, Pacha wouldn't have had to lop off her right breast; you can't mutilate what you don't have!  I bet she could shoot an arrow with the best of them.  Pacha could even kill an Orc . . . because she has no boobs and she's just like Goldie Hawn.



Or (if you were Pacha) would you buy a push-up bra, one of those nice watery ones that make you feel like a walking aquarium?  Would you lie to the world because you're a wuss who likes water!

Would you get fake boobs, because you're obsessed with Tigger?  You're so addicted to bouncing that you can't get it out of your mind?

Or finally would you drink caffeine like crazy since someone told you it can make your boobs swell?

Please give me your advice.  Poor Pacha.  She's feeling superficial and contradictory.  At least she still loves soup.  She loved the fact that when she went sky diving she was extra aerodynamic.  Would she lose part of herself only to gain bouncy perfection?  Is this a stupid thing to be concerned with?  Thank you for your help, all of you.  You are truly the best blog gurus I know!