The Quest for Bigger Breasts
Back when I was in college expanding my mind, some of my girl friends were expanding their breasts. I admit that I was tempted to join them. There was nothing really wrong the the breasts that I had at the time. They were average I’d say, not too big, not too small. For my size, they were just about right. I’d never really felt they were inadequate until my friend came bouncing up in a “D” cup. Wow, I had to admit that she had quite a nice rack. She was smiling and cheerful and proud of her new self. “Oh, you should get some,” she wisely advised. “They will really boost your confidence!” I could see she was right. Her confidence soared to new heights as she showed off her “girls.” She’d show them to anyone who would look. And believe me when I say that many, many, people looked and kept looking. Some literally couldn’t stop looking! “Go ahead, touch them,” she’d say with a smile.
Well, that was it! I had to have a pair of new boobs, too. But how much did they cost and how could I afford it? My friend explained that they weren’t really so terribly expensive. They were sort of an investment in your future like a degree. Of course, we spend a lot of money on our education but spending $10,000 on a boob job seemed frivolous. I could have a new car for that amount. “Well break it down like this. That is only $5,000 a tit.” she said in a serious tone. “ After all, she continued, what is college for? You got student loans and credit cards that can pay for them.” Oh, she was a financial genius! I hadn’t thought of actually borrowing money to pay for my augmentation. But it made sense. It would be like making a car payment only it would be a boob payment. I could be driving around with larger, perky, round knockers while I was still young enough to thoroughly enjoy them. What a great idea!
I went for a consultation with the same doctor that did my friend’s boobs. He was a grandfatherly, small town doctor that looked vaguely familiar. He greeted me with a warm hello and then I knew. He was the same doctor that removed my tonsils as a kid and my brother’s appendix. Wow, awkward. He was happy to see me and asked how my parents were doing. Oh, more awkward. He explained that he had expanded he practice to include breast augmentation surgery. I felt a little unsure but he claimed to have done hundreds of breasts. I wondered if he was counting by pairs or individually. He asked how big I’d like them and I explained that they needed to be at least as big as my friend’s but preferably a little bigger. Well, that was no problem he assured me. Now he said he just needed for me to remove my shirt so he could take a look. “Whoa, what do you mean remove my shirt?” I said. He explained, that in order to do the surgery, he would need to see my breasts. “Wait a minute here mister. I thought we were just going to talk!” I protested. Well, what did I think, he insisted. He could not do a surgery without seeing what he was doing. Well, I obviously hadn’t thought this out but one thing was sure. My mother taught me that these boobs don’t come flying out of this blouse without dinner and a movie!
Thankfully, I was confident enough to live my life happily with the jugs god gave me. They have changed over the years but have served me well. They were used for what they were intended; feeding and sustaining the life of a newborn or resting a tired worried head.