*growls* boobs....

Hi guys. 

I know what you're thing. "Ooh nooo, this whole blog is going to be about boobs'. I gladly inform you otherwise. See, I have a thing with boobs to. Except, mine is that 

I FLIPPING HATE THEM. 

They are irritating. I don't understand them. Yeah, yeah, I get what their functioning purpose is, I'm not dumb. But, I mean seriously, they don't have to be so.... There. Do you get what I'm attempting to say? I hope so, because otherwise this is awkward. Let me attempt to simplify it into plain words. Boobs are irritating. One, They get in the way. Someone reaches across you to grab something, you can suck you gut out of the way, but no, you have no physical control over your boobs other than bluntly squishing them back with your hand, which is then more in the way than your fat blobs in the first place. Two, they are FAT BLOBS. And the male gender has somehow deemed these specific two fat blobs on you chest as attractive, the more fatty and blobby and big they are. I don't understand this any more than I understand a paper on neuroscience written in cursive German. Three, they bounce. Like, if you have any amount of boob size that is not held down with the mightiest of bras, they will bounce and jiggle and go freaking everywhere If you so much as tip-toe up a step of walk at a normal pace. Don't get me started on running or working out at tae kwon do. It's torture. I mean, if you're in a room full of other girls with the same problems it's okay. But if you're surrounded by guys of various ages, there are virtually no other girls with notable boobs, and you  try to do a jumping jack or a burpie, and you're in the most awkward situation of your life since you pronounced the 'g' in paradigm. And you can't exactly turn around and put them back in there proper position in your bra, because BOOM, teenage guy behind you. It's really freaking awkward. Also, bras. I know some people who love bras, and I have affection for them, too, when they do their job without causing me physical pain. I probably know people who would run a marathon(maybe not a marathon, but something equally as work-out-ish) in a flipping fancy black lacy underwire bra. I can hardly sit through an hour of church service in the most comfortable of wired bras without being stabbed multiple time by said wires, having to adjust at least twice, or having the straps show off out from under my  shirt. I mean, why do we have to wear a special piece of clothing on our fat blobs, or else get nasty looks? Yeah, guys kind of do too, but it's called underwear and it's not an exclusively male article of clothing, we have to wear it too. I  think I would have a whole lot less problems with boobs if I could control them, like the same way you control your toes or something. Limited mobility, yes, but you could still keep them from going crazy when you lay sideways. 

Conclusion on boobs? 

They are still frustrating, near pointless till you're a mother, they can't move, and you have to practically strap them down. Therefore, my verdict is: I despise their existence.

Bye. Thanks for reading my weirdeties, 

Phrank