My dear friend is well endowed.  In fact, her breasts are somewhat her pride and joy.  I have mentioned her bosom a handful of times in previous blogs.  They are blog worthy!   She loves to talk about them as if they were a separate but sovereign nation where she is the ruler.   One day last week she texted me, "I am having an awesome cleavage day...thought you'd like to know."   My response was swift.  "Pic please!  Show em off Big D!!!! cat calls..."   She did.  It was quite spectacular.  The cleavage starting line began close to her clavicle bone just below where, if she were a man, her adam's apple would be.   It was both amazing and troubling at the same time.   I told her that I was like Robin to her Batman in the cleavage world.  I was Boy Wonder - wonder where mine are compared to hers!   I have, when I thought there was even a wisp of cleavage- a narrowing of my four lane highway, snapped a picture and texted it to Big D.  My cleavage to hers is like a picture colored by a 3 year old compared to a picture by Ancel Adams.  No worries though, I love who I am - small bust and all with the exception of my thinning hair and horrifically high forehead.  My daughter came to make Christmas cookies with me today.  She assumed her position sitting on the kitchen counter between rounds of cookie sheets coming and going from the oven.  Before she arrived I sprayed my cookie sheets with non-stick spray.  The spray splattered on me and across my shirt leaving a rather large stain on my left breast.  I didn't change because I knew I'd get flour and frosting somewhere else on me later.  Standing in the kitchen waiting on a tray to come out of the oven she quipped from atop her counter perch, "Mom, how did I get boobs that are least twice your size?!"  It is a genetic mystery.  I told her that we always want more for our kids than we had.  Boobs included:)  I didn't tell her that I prefer quality over quantity.  Or that less is more sometimes.  She wouldn't have bought any of those statements.  I think I will make her a Breast Achievement Award (the BAA in the industry - given to those that overcome their heredity to defy physical boundaries.  My boobs were lovingly referred to as "beezers" as a kid. It was a word that eluded to them being junior or pint sized - not fully developed. My dad recently said, in reference to something he and my mom had seen on TV, "That woman on the AFV clip had breasts (gesturing outward to make a visual shelf of sorts) out to here.  You could have used them as a table."  I laughed.  I thought later that the reference of being "flat as a board" as opposed to "use em as a table" was far kinder.  At least the masses wouldn't be bellying up to Thanksgiving dinner off mine!! 

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