I’d Be a Free Spirit If I Didn’t Have to Lug Around These Huge Boobs

There’s nothing more attractive than a free spirit. You know the type: They’re the ones blowing bubbles in an open field, or holding dandelions in between their ring and pinky finger. Long, unmanageable hair and flouncy, white dresses that effortlessly fall upon a flat yet beautiful torso. I want nothing more than to be that effortless. But I can’t—because I’ve got these huge boobs.


Sure, I’d love to feel effortless. You know what’s not effortless? Having giant cans. I’ve been lugging around these fat sacks for 13 years and I’m extremely tired of it. Not a day goes by that I don’t have to strap these things down to prevent injury to myself and others.


I have the spirit of a free spirit, but the chest of an elementary school lunch lady. For a carefree gal, the chest is the place where long necklaces lay flat on bare skin. For me, it’s where the first ten pounds of a weight gain go. And the next ten, too.


Many of my best friends are free spirits! Raina, Barkley, and Oceana all possess the perfect washboard chests for white lacey summertime dresses. Meanwhile, I wear anything that won’t push the fat of my breasts into other areas of my arms and stomach. Last week, my friends felt the urge to treat the grocery store like their own little Cameron Crowe montage, running up and down the aisles and being generally free-spirited. I tried to join in, but made the mistake of not wearing three sports bras. You know, the necessary amount of sports bras to make sure my boobs don’t start bouncing as if they are an unneutered dog’s balls? So I stopped mid-skip in the canned vegetable aisle and strolled along like a librarian.



FREE SPIRITS DON’T STROLL. They run with wind in their hair and nothing but 5,000 too many bracelets to hold them back. Maybe I could feel the wind in my hair if my hair wasn’t always stuck in my unconscionably giant melons.


Want to know something else about free spirits? They’re not clumsy. Their perfect free spirit bodies never had to relearn how to balance after a sudden “growth” spurt at 13 years old.


As I was trying to get out of a shopping cart in my attempt to free spiritedly ride through the grocery store, my giant boobs got caught on the dangling child safety strap. The cart fell over and I tumbled along with it. That doesn’t sound very ethereal, now does it? Then my giant boobs hit a Sunkist display, sending orange soda spraying everywhere.


A free spirit would’ve looked adorable with all that orange liquid dripping down her body. I looked like I’d brought two hams to a pool party.


Anyway, have fun out there with your tiny tits. I’ll just be here, cleaning up Sunkist with my huge jugs dragging against the floor.


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