These are fried eggs. 
After going bikini shopping yesterday, I realised that these look just like my boobs.

Once upon a time, I had fantastic boobs. They were so fantastic that many of my male friends had me in their phone as Lauren BT (big tits), however, those days are gone. After 2 kids, the skin formerly known as boobs is now a distant memory and now instead of being compared to varieties of melon, they are now similar shape, texture and unpredictable movement of fried eggs.

See to be honest, I don't really give two shits about what my boobs look like because I managed to feed kids with them, but after trying on countless pairs of bikini tops, they began to shit me because I either couldn't hold a top up or I found myself strategically moving the "boob" into the triangle shaped piece of fabric so that a nip slip didn't occur. Maybe if one of the 5 staff that were in the store at the time would have helped me or even at least acknowledged that there was a customer in the store, I might have had luck finding a suitable top however they were fucking useless and if it was appropriate to flip them the bird as I left the store, I would have. Clue: the store was at Brisbane DFO and I would highly recommend to never go there.

Along with the unwashed top knot, constant discharge and constantly muttering "for fucks sake" under my breath, my boobs are one thing that I never knew I'd lose because I always thought they'd get bigger with motherhood. No one warned me that the size F that I was when the kids were born would soon turn into size F skin with nothing left to fill it up. I can push them up and hold them where they used to be, but since we can tie em' up and put em' in a bow now, surely there has got to be some sort of give when it comes to putting them in a bikini? 

This is for my ladies with fried eggs!

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MotherhoodLauren Patterson