a cups

i should probably elaborate on 'the rack.'*

well, first me, then onto the rack.

i am 5'3". i weigh 108 lbs. i am asian. therefore, i am appropriately blessed with non-boobs, the kind that have trouble filling out a cups. that's right. trouble. filling. a cups.

that's why, when someone with a nice rack, k., innocently inquires about the sluttiness factor of her green camisole, i am perplexed. can't you still see your chest when you put something on over it? is everything below your chin suddenly invisible? do you not notice cleavage when you have it? do you think everyone sees something you don't? i can understand not being able to see your feet past the rack, but really? you have to ask me if there is too much going on up there? me, of little peanut m&m's? wee boobs?

hence the bafflement.

i am a big fan of boobs. after assuring k. that she should flaunt whatever she has, i reinforced by sending her text messages such as, 'awesome tits!' and 'great rack!' i assume they had the desired effect of making her feel boobilicious. or self-conscious. whichever.

i am such a good friend.

* this post is dedicated to k.: buena suerte