In praise of a sagging rack- or boobs you can tuck into the waistband of your pants

    www.sexwithsue.com, www.solveprematureejaculation.net, www.schoolofsquirting.com
There is a reality that happens as a woman leaves her thirties and is a size C and only wears a bra under duress. I am constantly finding bras on the floor of my car. That’s when the nipples start pointing towards the southern hemisphere (or in my case south west and south east)  instead of north. The traverse down seems to be inevitable. Given that I had 18 months of pregnancy, over five years of nursing, and lots of times that I didn’t wear the sports bra when I probably should… I am starting to feel definitely saggy. They are not quite the tube sock shape that I fear, but like many of my friends, we are just not the same anymore.  The public opinion is that you should have breasts perky enough to drop a pencil when standing up. I could keep a pencil case under mine, even with my arms waving over my head. I heard of a woman at a nudist camp that successfully won the bet that she could hold a volleyball under there. I have an aunt that says “God gave women over 40 saggy boobs, because he knew that busy women needed an extra pair of hands”. She says it’s a great place to store toilet paper when squatting to pee in the woods.
There is always the lift and tuck (apparently it’s called a crescent cut- see the video http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6280094575831813414) but I am remiss to go under the knife. We were recently in Mexico and playing a popular game over a pina colada of “are they real or not?”  One women who had a fabulous rack and great surgery where her augmentation went through her belly button, offered up a chance to feel her saline sacks. We of course took her up on it. Even without scars, they didn’t feel anywhere near right.  Now I understand that a lift and size increase are two separate things, but given that I have a tummy scar that scared small children in locker rooms now, I don’t want to look like the monster in the new igor movie (with my sweetie John Cusak) or Gilda Radner in Young Frankenstein.
So for the moment anyway (or until I become independently wealthy and so much more vain) I live with the girls hanging close to my belly button when swaying in the breeze. So think about the advantages the next time you see a rack that has lost some of its elasticity. And we won’t snicker about the testicles you have hanging to your knees.