Hpnotc

I'm gonna run a little commentary today, about women. This is all a result of the bus. Oh, how I love the bus. I have no idea if anything is medically or scientifically accurate, but I'm not a doctor or scientist, and don't give a fuck on that front, and also, in what I've seen, you don't have to have a certificate to have everyone believe whatever you say, just Charisma
(God, I love that word)

There was a woman, and she was clearly very pregnant. And she was also smoking.
I don't mind smokers, I'll even do it myself occasionally.
But you don't make your unborn baby smoke your smoke. You chose to smoke, not the baby.
Jerk.

Secondly, as I was sitting, nearly in tears over this mother, I saw this other girl standing outside the bus stop.
She seemed to me to be the epitome what our nation's women are today.

Small breasted from hormone filled food in giant portions of genetically modified protein and vitamins, screwed up estrogen and testosterone levels, as well as from evolution--lines of women having 1.2 children stopping the need for their endowments to be anything less than impressive.

At the same time, these women are filling their childless bellies with something else...so much alcohol that it leaves them with large beer bellies, or vodka, rum and wine bellies, complete with a large donut hole of a belly button overhanging store-torn jeans that don't fit their asses properly because they only go half way because, although their legs are thin enough, the bands won't go around the stretch-marked waist.

The woman's (the typical woman, not the like, 20% percent that fill magazines and the petite section at the mall) silhouette isn't much of a silhouette anymore. Their shadows look like a Picasso reject.

What does this all come down to?

Well, fortunately for me, my body IS proportionate. No, it's not the 130 lbs that is supposedly supposed to be normal for my height (BMIs, kiss my curvaceous ass), but everything's the right size for my size.
Thanks to a mother who hates hot dogs, non farm-fresh meat and produce, and many other old-school health delights, I have been blessed with the keeping of good genetics and allowed to grow my bosom to it's full extent which leaves others looking in jealousy or lust.
(haha, I really just went on a rant there, and it sounded good, so I'll keep it. I'm not really that full of myself.)
Thanks to my family, I've kept in relatively good shape and not fallen totally for the fast food, alcoholic, and muscle-inhibiting/belly-building birthcontrol ways of the rest of us.

Unfortunately, this makes shopping for clothes difficult.

Not long ago, going up a size literally meant they just moved the bust and hips up a size.

now, bust and hips stay the same. it's the belly that grows
(or stays the same but is made of lycra and spandex because some dumbass decided to bring leggings back into fashion and now everyone wants to look like a 1980`s TV workout instructor with matching "stomach flattening"--or not--tight and stretchy material.

This is difficult when you want to buy a dress or a nice shirt.
It's maddening when you have to put a piece of clothing back withing ten seconds of trying it on because right away it doesn't fit over that lovely, envy-producing bust of yours.
Annoying when you know it WOULD fit, if it didn't just have that huge pucker in the waist where your huge paunch is supposed to be, really making that dress into a bubble dress.
And it pisses one right off when the shirt isn't long enough because half the material is taken up by those lovely things on your chest.

It's annoying when you come out of the changeroom, and look like you've just had a work out because you've been wresting with an overpriced piece of polyester-cotten blend to get it back over those hills that they got stuck on and you realized, Shit, this isn't going to fit you.
(lol, maybe not so intense, but, it is frustrating. and angering, not depressing)

So what does one do? They go to the Plus section. But it doesn't matter, because there, everything is ugly and disgusting, because for some reason it seems like they want to make fat people depressed. And you really aren't that big anyways, you just wanted something for your boobs, but you now fail because you aren't three hundred pounds.

sigh

Well. that was my night.

What were my resolutions? Well, I'm tired, so I'll just give you this and be done with it. I think it's awesome. It's creepy and beautiful at the same time, and is one of the few videos I've seen that accurately describes how I feel when I listen to it (well, maybe not the last 20 seconds)

they're not too bad live either. (And this is as live as it gets) ;)