(Article) A Few Words About Fake Breasts

For me, any feelings of attachment to my breasts took a hike when I reset my mind from their previous esteemed positions of having been the source of much fun and also hard work on the lactation front, (total 4 years 5 months). I now looked upon them as potential killers. Much like if I'd lived next door, for many years, to a funny, somewhat 'different', quirky avuncular chappie, who I had now learned was in fact a rapist and was also suspected of murder. I guess I would no longer chat over the fence to him, nor invite him round for a family barbeque. My left breast, was well down the road, stage 3 grade 3 and the right was going feral and so the decision was very clear for me. Yes, I miss them, yes that part of my life will never return, but f**k - a - duck...I'm still here, although rather buggered and bent.