Fresh from my shower, I stand in front of the mirror complaining to my
husband that my breasts are too small. Instead of characteristically
telling me it's not so, he uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion.
If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet
paper and rub it between them for a few seconds.'
Willing to try anything, I fetch a piece of toilet paper and stand in
front of the mirror, rubbing it between my breasts. 'How long will
this take?' I asked.
They will grow larger over a period of years,' my husband replies. I
stopped. 'Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between
my breasts every day will make my breasts larger over the years?' Without
missing a beat he says, 'Worked for your bum, didn't it?'
He's still alive, and with a great deal of therapy, he may even walk
again, although he will probably continue to take his meals through a straw.
Stupid, stupid man.
husband that my breasts are too small. Instead of characteristically
telling me it's not so, he uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion.
If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet
paper and rub it between them for a few seconds.'
Willing to try anything, I fetch a piece of toilet paper and stand in
front of the mirror, rubbing it between my breasts. 'How long will
this take?' I asked.
They will grow larger over a period of years,' my husband replies. I
stopped. 'Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between
my breasts every day will make my breasts larger over the years?' Without
missing a beat he says, 'Worked for your bum, didn't it?'
He's still alive, and with a great deal of therapy, he may even walk
again, although he will probably continue to take his meals through a straw.
Stupid, stupid man.
