There is a tiny man who lives in my head and is obsessed with boobs. You may not have noticed this, but many women in our society wear low cut shirts, and some of them even wear pushup bras.
What this means is that there are very nice looking breasts walking around every day, practically in full view. BUT...............Do not look at the breasts.
I KNOW! It sounds crazy. I thought so too when I first discovered I liked looking at breasts. There they are, see? They're so close you could touch them. But don't even LOOK at them.
How am I and the little boob-loving man in my head not supposed to look at the boobs when they're right there? We see them and the little man starts saying, "Don't look at her breasts, don't look at her breasts, don't look at her breasts" and suddenly looking at her breasts and maintaining the act of NOT looking becomes all I can think about and the next second she turns away or looks down I LOOK AT HER BREASTS and hope she didn't catch me when she turned back and I was still looking but I'm pretty sure she did and oh god now what?
Sometimes giving in to temptation helps because then once I've looked I feel like I can relax because I've verified that she does in fact have breasts and so now everything is fine.
But sometimes that plan backfires when I discover that looking at her breasts has brought new meaning to my life and that I want to keep looking at them more than I want to keep living. It's times like these that I find being a lesbian tiresome, because while men may be excused for occasionally becoming distracted by a woman's cleavage, most women are not super jazzed to catch a lesbo ogling their funbags.
Yes, sometimes being gay can be a drag but the many women who frantically scramble to haul their breasts away to a safer location when I enter the room are more than made up for by the occasional woman who is happy to take her boobs out and slap me in the face with them. Thank you, sweet magical Jesus, for boobs and gay women.
The end.
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