Don't Stare, Grow Your Own

I went bra shopping today. I had to because I had grown -- again. If all these young ladies just waited they wouldn't need breast implants. I've done it the natural way. Except...

And that brings me to thinking about getting my first bra. I couldn't wait. I was ten years old and so excited. They called them "training bras."

Now, to tell you the truth, my youthful breasts needed no training. They knew what to do. They knew they were supposed to be perky. They were firm; they pointed just where they were supposed to -- facing front, pointing directly at anyone in front of me. "" No one, and nothing, had to show them how to do it.

But now. Now, when the girls need serious instruction and directions, there is nothing to train, or retrain them. They're going south. They have a birds eye (or should I say "breast eye"), view of my feet.

The first time I noticed this trend, I just assumed I wasn't standing up straight. So I pulled my shoulders back and took another look in the mirror. Nope, they were still pointing south. So I leaned further back, and then further, and then further -- all I needed was the music to accompany the limbo I was doing. All to no avail.

The downward trend has continued. But unlike the economy, which has a chance of rebounding, I fear my girls will remain staring at my feet the rest of their lives.