First Word: Pamela Yorston: Cup

When I was 12 I used to wrap elastic around my chest so that the other girls would think I was wearing a bra. I didn’t actually need one until I was fourteen, and even then it was a modest A cup, my natural attributes augmented by a sock or two.
            Having my first child was glorious. I flaunted a cleavage for the first time. By then I was a B Cup. In my grandmother years I’ve graduated to C, no padding and counting.  I’ll have to take measures. 
            There’s nothing quite so aging as big boobs in an older woman.  Brazilians believe in universal breast reduction. The fashion there is for miniscule breasts. The focal point of the female body is the bun bun - that’s Brazilian for bum. I’d have done quite well as a young woman in Brazil.  Plenty of bun bun and no boobs. 
            Perhaps my increase in Cup size is due to Detol soap. I read in the Mercurio this morning that antibacterial soap wrecks havoc with the endocrinal system. It contains hormones which are dissolved in fat and absorbed by the thyroid.  No question my thyroid is out of whack causing me to gain weight in the chest. And a few other places.
            That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.