Boobs

It took me a long time to come to terms with myself. I am deeply flawed and it is an effort to ignore the flaws and horrors most days.

About 5 years ago I lived with a guy called Matt. I called him Eleven. As in, out of ten he was an Eleven. I was totally smitten. Every weekend we'd watch DVDs together and just being near him was exhilirating. He was a great big slut, seriously. He knew it, we all knew it. The girls just let themselves believe he wasn't but deep down they knew it. It was horrible living with him, liking him so much but trying to not feel it, or at least not show it because it would cause housemate armageddon really. He was one of the most charming and disarmingly honest people I've ever met. I miss him.

Crush aside, Matt was the person who introduced me to my boobs. And for that, I thank him.

He talked about them alot. He said very sweet (actually mostly dirty) things about the way my boobs looked in a particular top, or the amount of cleavage showing, or just in general about boobs when there was nothing else to talk about. At the time it was quite awkward, I didn't know how to react, I wondered if it meant he liked me. Yes, he liked me but he didn't like like me though as I heartbreakingly came to realise.

I never believed him until many years later. Even now I don't think they're super fantastic, it'd be nice to have bigger boobs, but I'm pretty happy with what I have. In the past 6 months, at least 3 men and 7 female friends have talked about my boobs to my face. It still makes me slightly uncomfortable, but I do believe them when they admire em. Though I still think I need to go up at least 2 cup sizes in order for them to have the phwoooooar! quality. Still, it's one thing at least I can be thankful for. That and good supporting bras.

I really should name the twins something decent.