A lot (!!) of new visitors showed up during the last two days to read about the fantastic work of the Plasticos Foundation. I'm so amazed at the power of the Internet sometimes. Thank you everyone for your support for a very important organization.
Some of those new visitors might be back today.
I decided to go ahead and scare them away right off the bat. (They're thinking I'm altruistic or something, when, in reality, I talk about things like boobs a lot.)
<hearing door slam as the new readers run away>
Ironically, I'm still writing about plastic surgery today, but not in a positive way.
I no longer write about the interesting assortment of people I meet at physical therapy as much as I used to. The Torturer might have threatened me with death, or some such thing, to make me change my entertaining evil ways.
However, there's a new Money Town woman at PT and I just can't help myself. Honestly, if you met her you'd have to write about her too.
I didn't know fake breasts were even manufactured THAT big. Her boobs enter the room before she does. They fill the entire building, causing everyone to be pushed up against the wall in an attempt to accomodate them. I think she could easily suffocate bystanders with them.
Death by melon monstrosities.
It's impossible not to stare.
She comes into PT wearing tight sweaters and shorts. You think I'm joking, don't you?
She tosses her hair a lot and pushes her shoulders back as far as they go to better show off balance her enormous breasts. Her humongous hooters appear as hard as a rock and stick straight out in a very unnatural and alarming way.
The rest of her body is average. She's not tall or short. She's not fat or skinny. She's just very average in every way. Her face is not unattractive, nor is it pretty. None of that really matters, however, because everyone in her proximity is absolutely riveted to her mammoth mammories.
They look like they might fall off. Or topple her over like a weeble-wobble toy.
Like everyone else, I can't help staring at the massiveness of her chest. I keep trying to figure out why? Why would someone do that to themselves? Why would a doctor allow a patient to choose Quadruple Z sized fake breasts?
As a former DD woman, I know only too well the annoyance of having men people talk to my boobs. My (real) double D's had nothing on this woman. Nothing!
I'd tell you The Torturer hasn't even noticed them, but …. I can't seem to pull him away from her side for long enough to ask him.
Um, just joking Mr. Torturer! (Ha ha??)
** He's always very professional and I must keep repeating that! **
In any case, the PT office is somewhat circular. The reception area is in the middle and there are hallways that go all the way around it with rooms and workout areas coming off of those halls.
Earlier this week, I walked out of a room and turned down the hallway just as Tenacious Tits rounded the corner. I bounced right off her rack before I even saw her face (which was most likely still on the other side of the building).
Seriously, I bounced off her boobies.
What are they made of? Rubber?
My breast-reduction breasts are soft. And firm, but squishy too. And perky. (Thank you for the perkiness Dr. Nichter!) And warm. They aren't bouncy.
We won't talk about my nipples today because they're beside the point. (Ha ha … maybe they ARE the point?)
I'm really a twelve year old boy, did you know that?
Sorry, let me get back on track here ….
I bounced off her tits as if she'd emitted some type of tremendous titplosion to send me reeling.
Flustered, I meant to apologize for running into her.
I intended to say, "Sorry, I didn't see you."
What came out of my mouth instead was, "Sorry, I don't know how I couldn't have seen them."
She glared at me.
I blushed and stammered.
Right then I heard a snort and a burst of laughter from behind me. Two of the aides couldn't contain themselves.
I turned my back on Tenacious Tits and walked in the opposite direction to escape.
I suppose I can admit now …
As soon as I was out of earshot I burst into a fit of giggles.
I might be giggling still.
© Twenty Four At Heart