I’ve been plagued by physical insecurities as of late. Not that I think I’m too fat, or extremely ugly, or anything like that. It has more to do with a shrinking in a certain region. I watch my diminishing cleavage, and think about going to see my friend at Victoria’s Secret for a push-up bra or at least a bra that fits, since mine no longer seem to fill out the already meager cups currently housing them.
I’m going through reverse puberty or something. I blame the yoga.
I’ve never really cared in the past, so I’m not quite sure why I should care so much now.
I’m having a difficult time shaking this one off, for some reason. Maybe because I’m overly emotional right now. As a friend told me this morning, I could just say “fuck it” and up the daily croissant intake to two a day, but there’s no guarantee that the extra calories will pad the bra… experience tells me that I’ll gain bit of a muffin-top instead. And that would make the chest look even smaller, so that option is out… even though an extra croissant does sound delightful. There was a pill I was on at one point that gave me some giant… ahem… maybe I could go back on that one. Oh wait, no. That one gave me migraines. Oh well.
I think what I need to do is go for a jog in a skimpy sports bra, and then I’ll feel better. Or maybe try Mayurasana and think about how much more difficult that could be with large breasts. Or just reread this post and realize how ridiculous this little rant is.