So remember when I wrote that post about two years ago in which I lamented the fact that I had recently discovered I wore a D cup bra? That post was charmingly titled “Cups” and remains one of my most popular posts. The ninth most popular of all time, according to my stats, behind the home page (duh), my VidCon recap, my curly hair tutorial, my NYU application answers, and the post about Zac Efron looking like Kevin Zegers. Got it. The internet likes boobies, YouTube, hair tutorials, sarcasm, and Zefron. I am your humble servant, internet. More about boobies after the jump:
I’m not going to bore you with more build up: today I became a member of the Double D team. Yes, I have gone up yet another cup size in the past two years. Like I mentioned in my original “Cups” post back when I was only 18, I was surprised enough when I became a C cup, let alone D, and, now, DD. Let’s see where I am on the chart I used last time, shall we?
- A– Adolescent
- B– Bare Minimum
- C– Common Enough
- D– Dramatic
- DD– Downright Dirty
- E– Enormous
- F– Freakish
- G– Grotesque
- H– Hideous
Downright Dirty? Really, internet? Really?
I’m going to be honest: the only reason I found this new development in my life interesting at all was because I had to drop an awful lot of money on new bras which, for us well-endowed ladies, can get quite expensive.
Sorry, can we just go back a second to the fact that I have DD boobs? They’re probably at about half my body weight at this point.
Like I said in my last post, “The only time the size of your boobs matters is when you have nothing else to offer.” And I still completely agree with that statement. But now that I’ve got a couple more years under my belt, I’d like to add a little something.
On my Google profile, my “blurb” is that I am the sum of many parts, and I think this speaks to a lot of things. While I’d rather not be judged on the size of my “hooters” (I know you’re there, internet. Trust me), they are still a part of who I am. But you know what else is a part of this sum? My elbows. My bushy eyebrows. My deceivingly-Jewish nose. The tips of my fingers, the unevenly-bitten nails, the half-painted toenails, the newly-carved calves (yeah, gym!), and the perpetually-a-little-bit-chapped lips. They’re not all equally important, but they’re all there, and that is what is important.
If I were to write the equation society uses to determine overall worth as a human being (x), y= cup size, z= how often you show off what’s underneath those cups, and p= quality of personality, it would look like this:
x= (p/y) +z
And if I were to try to input my own numbers, it would look like this:
x= whatever I damn well want it to be.
Life is what you make of it, people, and you get out of it what you put in. If I wanted to, I could toss around my knockers like coupons and maybe earn a few free meals here and there, but my life is worth more than my physical attributes. I am not ashamed of these parasites on my chest, nor am I bashful about them, because the fact that they are there and that they are large is just that, a fact. My equation for determining worth as a human being has an awful lot more variables, and I’ll keep adding them the longer I’m lucky enough to grace this planet with my existence.
I don’t care how high your number is for your (y) variable. I’m much more interested in what else you’ve added to the equation.
A= How often you apologize when you’ve been wrong or unkind
B= The number of bear hugs you’ve given to people who needed them
C= The number of times someone has called you crazy
D= Dinners cooked for hungry friends
E= Nights spent with people you truly enjoy being around instead of people you “should” be around
….I could go on. Could you?
