Week 23 - Jubblies

Boobs.

They're great arent they.

Only ours are now not only growing at an amazing and (as you'll see) expensive and time consuming rate, they have also started to leak, though thankfully only a tiny bit. Seems that beyond 12-14 weeks this is not all that uncommon, with the leakage being a bit of colostrum - the top notch high-grade nourishing stuff the bub gets to chow down on in its first few days. Although such leaks are fairly common, it still gave Mistress P one helluva shock when the bed suddenly appeared to be getting "a bit damp" beneath her for no apparently good reason.

According to the those that should know, the tip is to wear some disposable or washable pads to absorb the occasional leakage and to (and I quote) "Allow your breasts to air-dry a few times each day". Errrr... sorry?? I dont quite know how that will go down with the officemate. (But then again, he is French...)

The somewhat rapid expansion of the fun bags also led us to be standing - and for at least one of us, hopping from foot to foot - in the womens lingerie section of K-Mart on a sunny saturday morning when all decent folk of sailing age were out on the bay.

Seems that a C into A just wont go, and hence the newfound pneumaticy meant it was time for the big bra upgrade. Being a mere male, AB didnt quite realise what this involved, and hence naively thinking that a boob is a boob, agreed to go shopping with Mistress P for such things, assuming that they'd be in and out, wham bam thank you mam.

Errr... wrong.

Seems a pregnant woman cant have underwire, so that cut half them out. ("What, do you think it'll puncture them?") Then theres sports ones, breast feeding ones, ones with built in DVD player etc... so AB stood (3 newly purchased pyrex bowls in hand - and no, not to catch aforementioned leakage) hopping about and trying not to look like a pervy loitering in the lingerie section watching woman ooh and ahh over g-strings. (Well, you cant help but notice...).

Ok, selection done, next the changerooms.

Wandering over and standing in front of the female change isnt all that different. However at least other mere males are there for support, all looking equally dazed and confused. Which was prolly cos they knew what we didnt... theres never just one selection. (We did three.)

{The following section is not sanctioned by Mistress P, and are the apparently deluded theories of the author.}
This is quite possibly evolutionary. Hunter caveman realised that he may only get one arrow/club shot at that weeks worth of sabertooth, so he'd better make it a good one and get out of there with the meat before it and/or its meaner and uglier brother turned around and made a meal out of him instead. (i.e., picky hunters died out.) However gatherer cavegrrl looked out for the berries that were poisonsous when they get too red, hence carefully picked and chose through the purple ones and tossed away any that upon closer inspection were deemed just that little shade too pink. (i.e., quickie gathers died out.)

Clearly the same evolutionary principle now manifests itself in the art of smalls shopping. Bloke sees the 7-pack of Rios (medium) and thinks "one for each day, what'll they think of next?", grabs it and runs to the checkout. Total shop, 3.5 minutes, and no need to return for at least a year. A women spends 3/4 hour and 3 trips to the changerooms to decide theres only 1 item in the shop even worth looking at and maybe we should go to the shop where she bought the ones she got last time cos they fit really well and...

Darwin. You bastard.
Print this post