I’m sorry, RiCaRdO, for not acknowledging that you are indeed a boy with a penis and I should not have been so crass as to assume that all my readers had vaginas. Therefore I would like to thank all the ladies and gentleman, who have stopped by my blogthing as of this moment.

Today, I’m going to make a valid and rational argument for small ta-tas. Little melons. Tiny funbags. Cutie boobies. It is my understanding that someone has led the majority of the American (and Asian, have you see those Hentai films?) population to believe that ginormous breasts are desirable in a woman.

I’d like to clarify just how un-fun 38D’s can be and why, my petite princesses, you should be perfectly happy with your adorable B cups. Whenever I go shoppping with my 34B girlfriend, we’ll spend mere minutes sifting through lacey, colorful, little pieces of triangular fabric that hang on the $7.99 rack at Ross until she spots a cute little push up that satisfies her cleavage. Meanwhile, I have to shop in the obscure “Astronomically Huge Tits” section of departments stores to find the specially made $49.99 bra that utilizes the same suspension cable technology used on the Golden Gate Bridge.

Since I’m not the type to flaunt them, I do my best to draw as little attention to them as possible. I have never known the joys of tube tops, spaghetti straps, string bikinis and halters. I lament the fact that Forever 21 and Mossimo are unconcerned with the plight of thousands of girls with larger than average breasts and no where to put them.

I’m looking forward to the day when I can offer up my maracas to science and be the first ever to participate in Breast Transplantation. No longer will my coconuts enter the room before I do. No longer will they be the subject of speculation (Well, are they real or aren’t they?). I’m sure there’s a young, impressionable, 32A young lady who would kill for my 38D’s and she can have them.

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