Toodle-loo, Tits McGee.

I really can't stop thinking about getting my tits ripped off. I have carried them with me since a B-cup erupted out of nowhere in the 6th grade. A full blows C-cup in middle school subjected me to countless titty-twisters, and boob grabbing by over sexed, goofy teenage boys. Tune in Tokyo is a phrase that will never leave my brain. I was also accused of being a stuffer. My body was a barely 5ft, 112 lb, busty chunk of unproportioned awkwardness. Through high school, I got used to them, I grew to love them. Into my twenties, I hated them again. They were always in the way. Tank tops look slutty, tube tops are a no-go, and button up shirts are not always compatible. Plus they add at least 10 pounds onto my over-all scale reading, which I can definitely do without. So my decision, is to get rid of them. They look fine, and they have served their purpose, now it's time to go. They were gonna hit the floor running at some point anyways. Might as well ship em' out while they're in their prime. You know, save them the embarrassment. Plus, my neck muscles and back muscles would like a break from carrying those fun bags around for so many years. The one thing that I will probably miss is dropping and flopping them onto Girth's head. I like it when he is sitting at the computer, all unassuming, and I creep behind him and smash one of the top of his head. Or when he is just about asleep and I sneak around to smack one off the side of his face. These times are over though. So, kiss this suckers goodbye, because a bulk free me will be here by next Spring. I'm still contemplating before and after shots. I highly doubt Girth would let me share them though. We'll see.
A going away party will be in order though, that way everyone can see them off.

Ta-ta, ta-ta's...