Get your tits out for the lads

I've blogged before about having big boobs. Not too much has been said I hope. After all, how much can one expound on inflated (not superficially, I might add) mammaries?

I work with a man, a member of academic staff, who is a complete dickhole in every possible way. He's patronising, arrogant, and just a major prat. He also has a tendency to speak directly to my chest rather than venturing northward to make contact with, oh, I don't know, my eyes. Thankfully I have limited interaction with him, and I go out of my way to avoid him if I see him around my building.

A friend/co-worker was telling an acquaintance of ours who works in another location at the university about this man's boob fixation. When she told him of my experiences with Dr. Titman, he said, "Well, she does put them out there." Pardon? I put them out there? Even if they were "out there", does that mean some sex-deprived pervert is free to stare at them indiscriminately?

I'm now concerned that perhaps they are out there. Way out there. I'm a 36DD folks, there ain't no way of turning these babies into Precious Littles*. However, what if my tops are too tight, too low-cut, or both? My friend joked that half of my tops require tit tape, which is patently not true. She corrected herself to say that pre-P that was the case, but not so much anymore. So I used to be a big whore, but now that I'm a mother I've turned the whore down from about a 9 to perhaps a 3.

I swear to you, I am a fairly modest dresser. Any fashion savvy person will tell you that big breasted women should avoid high-necked tops, it just turns them into an amorphous blob. I wear a lot of v-necks, but not of them do anything more than graze my cleavage. Some of them might be a bit tight, but short of a mumu, my 36DDs would make an appearance regardless of my apparel.

I asked The Dude tonight if my boobs were flopping out on a daily basis. There were a lot of pauses, with his dear little pea brain clearly straining itself to figure out the best way to phrase things. His conclusion was that my tops are not too low cut, but perhaps some are too tight, whatever "too" tight means when stated by an avowed jealous husband. You should see the clothes this man picks out for me if given the opportunity. I might as well get a blue rinse, start collecting Hummel figurines and call it a fucking day.

I'm worried now that I wouldn't be taken seriously in my professional life thanks to big boobs, as if this is a fault of mine. I know it's the classic woman-in-the-working-world dilemma, but it sucks. I'm not happy with my figure in the least, which is why I don't cover it up completely. I know that seems rather illogical, but hiding under huge clothing makes you look even bigger, and who wants that? I would love to lose some boobage, and if I ever get my ass in gear and start running again, that will happen. Even if my 36DDs go back to what their former size of 34B
(10 years ago now, ugh), I still can't picture myself hiding under a shift.

I guess I am stuck being a big tittied ol' slut.

Apropos of nothing, I understand today is Official Delurking Day, in fact, it might even be Official Delurking WEEK. I love these things, because there are some pretty fabulous people lurking, and I know you're here. No bugger is commenting, but some of you are reading if my stats are to be believed. In the past year I have had fantastic comments from people with no link to a blog or an email address, which breaks my cold heart. Many times I've wanted to email a commentor to thank them for a great comment, but can't because there is no bloody way to contact them! I'm talking to you geepeemum, Seepi, Jennifer, New Beginnings, Chris, Sarah, Sarahd, Tommie, ks, Holly, Jacqueline, and all you anonymous people. I just went through a full year of comments to compile that list, so the good news is I've found some lurkers who commented at some stage who DO have blogs. I am in the process of adding you to my Bloglines as we speak. How oddly industrious of me.

The appeal of delurking can seem very self-serving, but I'm genuinely interested in who is reading my nonsense. Of course it helps to introduce me to new blogs as well, which my endless list of feeds on Bloglines will love me for. My goal this year is to comment more, as I get all uppity about no comments here, yet I am so lax with commenting myself. What a hypocrite I am.

So anyway, introduce yourself, I'm a friendly sort. Just make sure to look me in the eyes.


*Precious Littles: I was bra shopping once with a friend who is a 34A, and one of the bras she picked up was part of a line by this name. Rub it in why don't you?