Today's rant is not so civically oriented, nor is it even environmentally centered as my past rants have been.
Today, I'm talking directly to my breasts. I've decided to write a letter to them, because I was once told that a letter, even if it's left unsent, will help to resolve so much, so here goes.
Dear Twins, (yes, that's what I call them, shut up!)
I write to you today to set some boundaries. It's not that I don't love you, believe me, I do. But it seems that the two of you have gotten too big for your britches, so to speak. I know you like to be free and unconstrained, who doesn't? I myself look forward to stripping my clothes off and getting into comfy pj's every night. But this business of busting out of my bras has gotten out of control. Those things are expensive when purchasing for Twins of your size. As I type, I'm wearing two bras, one to compensate for the holes in the other. It's not comfortable, to say the least. I know you don't like it. I feel you itching and sweating under all that cotton and lace. It's your own fault! You brought this upon yourselves. All I'm saying here is cut me some slack. I have no income to speak of right now, I just need you to be nice to the bras we have. Work with me, and I'll work with you. Is it the cotton blend you object to? Fine. Next purchase will be 100%, organic even, I promise. But please, for the love of all that's mammory and pillowy, stop busting out of my bras!