I’m a 50s freak. By that I mean I love 1950s music, films, telly, clothes, dance, and I’m only 23.
I’m a Lindy-hop tutor. But what I don’t get is this. I have huge breasts. They get in my way. I’m a size eight with the most irritating 34 GG breast size.
I look at women from the 1950s and 1960s like Marilyn, Jane Russell and Gina Lollobrigida, and they wore their breasts with pride. I find mine annoying.
People just look at me there, and guys are only interested in them, not me. They’re heavy. I can’t get dresses to fit me but always have to do separates.
I can’t run. I sweat and get rashes under them. And you know what? The NHS won’t take me seriously when I ask for a breast reduction. Yet they give breast implants to some women. What’s the world coming to?
Barbara says: It’s coming from real to fake. It’s coming from, “I’m a male consultant, and I can’t see the problem.” It’s coming from, “Would you just strip off for me?”
However, I’m with you. Big breasts are just huge annoying lumps of fat.
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