A lot of blog posts come to me in the shower. This one was literally inspired by  the view looking down in the shower today. It is a sad state of affairs between my neck and my belly button, people. Sad like two deflated balloons the day after a birthday party. Sad like an empty, dusty house that used to be home to a couple rock stars. Sad like the show Trash Can of Skin that I once saw on the Discovery Channel. Sad.

The girls were at their peak of disparity by the time I fully weaned Kendall, looking very much like fried eggs and everything like I was afraid they would become. I was happy to see over the summer that they started to get a little mass back in them, a little more fluff. I was hopeful they would continue to….uh… puff back up as time went by, but I think it’s safe to say we’ve reached a stand still. They may not resemble fried eggs so much anymore, but they aren’t the fun bags they used to be either. They are smaller and… shiftier (?) than they were in their glory days. It’s kind of like they just exploded, got really fat, did a lot of yo yo dieting, and then had gastric bypass. The loose skin, the stretchmarks… it’s all very “Trash Can of Skin”-ish.

I saw a commercial today for a “Bra Makeover” at a nearby mall. I think I shall save up and seek out their assistance. Not a single bra of mine fits correctly, and by correctly I mean not a single bra I own works miracles and defies gravity. This commercial looked like it had some that might do just that… for a price.  It’s probably one of those places that will have no bras under $150, but that’s only a fraction of the price of a boob job, so that’s a steal, no? Not that I’m against boob jobs. I just don’t see the point until the baby factory is officially shut down for eternity.  And when that day comes, hopefully not too far in the future, I will get something done. Oh, yes, I will.

I am actually really quite interested in this procedure I heard about in a radio news program last week. I don’t know why it has taken plastic surgeons this long to perfect such a technique. Seems pretty obvious to me that this is a BRILLIANT solution, and had I gone to school to be a plastic surgeon this would have been my Capstone project, my thesis… or whatever. They take fat from your belly and/or thighs and… GET THIS… they fill your boobs up with it. Wham, BAM, thank you surgeon! You get a boob job and a flatter stomach all at the same time. It’s genius.

Really, the point of this post is the old gals ain’t what they used to be, I’m sorry to report. And even though I saw this coming two years ago, I’m still saddened by it. I’m still mourning their loss.

::pours a 40 out for my once awesome rack::

Kendall is 18 months and 3 days old (Oh, and at his 18 month appointment today, he showed off his awesome new trick – bashing his head against the wall super hard on purpose. Awesome. Scared the shit out of the nurse.)