I realize that after three children you are baby chewed and saggy. You resemble your younger selves no more than an elephant resembles a mole. Your perky, firm C cup selves would be mortified to see the ends to which you have come. You may even have succumbed to a little bit of banana bewb action. You are well loved dirt pillows. And I appreciate all that you have done for me, my children and my husband over the past years.
However. Seriously, bewbs? Seriously?
That black wiry hair that you decided to sprout overnight really just crosses the line. Haven't you noticed all of the plucking, waxing and shaving that goes on here on my body? Don't you realize that you will not be allowed to keep that hair? Is it jealousy? You need some attention?
Fine. I will break out the cocoa butter lotion and put on a romantic movie.
If you continue to try to morph into the Wicked Bewbs of the South with your hairy surprises, I will be forced to get firm with you.
Don't make me break out the nipple clamps.
Overworked and Under-pampered Me