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Confessions of A Beautiful Mind

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i am a strange, bizarre and intoxicatingly special person. get to know me. i love caramel. that's all i know. bump chocolate and vanilla.

08 June 2005

dear lord, stop the madness

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okay so i love my breasts. i really do. i have a relationship with them, as i should seeing has how i have to check them at least once a month for breast cancer. i keep them, clean, exfoliated and lotioned up. lately i've been letting them free via cleavage baring shirts.

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great huh?
so anyway. some women feel the need to garner the attention of men who enjoy baywatch babes. so what do they do? put toxic balloons in their cheast through, the belly button (causes low breasts), through the armpit (causes high breasts or misplaced breasts), through the areola (leaves a nasty scar and you may as well count the breasts out for foreplay and breast feeding) or under the breast which also leaves a nasty scar. most of the time these things look bolted on and like cantelopes. and really lucky women get capsular contracture, necrosis, rupture, and sometimes the implants just rot themselves out. pure idiocy. why would you DO THAT TO YOUR BODY? dont these dumb broads look on the internet? dont they notice that EVEN PLAYBOY doesnt want these circus freak breasts? i am sorry but implants dont look good. then once you get them in you have to worry about them dropping too much, rippling, that huge telltale valley. then, they cant be much fun during sex. yeah maybe i would like to wear a top that your breasts just sit there on display but there are so many more tops that look just as good with my real breasts. sorry but basketballs only look good on a basketball court.