Busting out..

I had cleavage issues at work today. It’s been most annoying. Why? Well, I don't want to look at or deal with my cleavage. Who would? But it's been ‘out there’ and I have spent all day trying to cover it. I have a habit of buying clothes too many sizes too large...yeah, it's stupid but there it is. Call it a throw back to the fat days…you never forget ‘em. Anyway, I had this top on that was loose – okay too big - but it never occurred to me that because it was larger that the neckline would be lower - hence the boobage issue. So it's been a day of pulling up fabric and placing a hand over the spillage when I’ve leant over. I can't concentrate with an expanse of cleavage in my face.

And, I'm actually blaming the boobage issue on forgetting to save part of the book I had written at work. All that fat white flesh pushed up and in was disconcerting to my gentle soul. I believe it blinded me and I lost consciousness for a moment and forgot to hit ‘save.’ Boobs - really what is the point of them? But I did learn two lessons. Buy a smaller size in clothes and no writer worth their salt forgets to hit save. And yes, I did spent several fruitless work hours – well, I’m sure the bosses would have wanted me to if they knew - searching the network to find what was lost. But it’s gone to god or some IT guy is wondering ‘what the hell is she doing to him and how can he do that without getting a cramp and are some women that bendy?’ Such is life. Boobs – they’re dangerous. Watch out for them and save, save, save.

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