Cleavage? Clever!

Boobs. Breastuses. Ta-tas. Whatever you prefer to call 'em, I've never thought too much of mine. Normally they're unimpressively small and have a space between them the size of Kenya (read: no cleavage. EVER. No matter how much duct tape I use  wadded socks I stuff  money I spend on magical push-up bras).

But there's nothing like pregnancy or breastfeeding to transform my mosquito bites into genuinely bodacious boobies (and to later leave them extra-saggy and raisin-like ... but I digress). These maternal mammaries are some of the few things I actually enjoy about my body, so you better believe that I take full advantage while I can, before they once again hang to my abdomen like oranges in tube socks. (Okay, so it's not quite that bad ... more like plums in ankle socks.)

I'm not busting out the fancy boob-enhancing lingerie or flaunting the girls in low-cut tops, though: it's the practical applications of cleavage that I most enjoy. If you've been reading me for a while, you'll probably remember this ...

(If you don't, go here to refresh your memory.)

It doesn't stop with butter, though. Boobs are the perfect medium for hiding things, carrying precious cargo, or serving as an extra hand (baby in one arm, box of wipes in the other? Just tuck a diaper into the cleavage, and voila!).

And today, I was once again reminded of just how functional they can be. Colin, in the midst of a hissy fit, threw one of his "stinky stinky balls" (again, if you're wondering what I'm talking about, check here). It landed on the kitchen counter, dangerously close to something breakable - so like any iron-fisted dictator mother would, I confiscated it. And where did it go? Between my boobs, natch. It fit so perfectly that Colin didn't even see it, and stormed angrily throughout the house looking in drawers and cabinets. Hahahahaha.

So you see? If you're lucky enough to have cleavage, boobs are good for more than just nicely filling out the front of a blouse. Change purse. Juice box holder. Lipstick tote. Butter warmer. Tissue dispenser (think about it! You'd never be stuck in a public restroom without toilet paper again!). The possibilities, my friends, are nearly infinite.

I sure will miss mine when they're gone. If anybody wants to contribute to a boob job fund, let me know and I'll post a donation box in the sidebar. :)

(By the way: there were sooooo many pervy titles I could have come up with for this blog. Boobs + balls? The possibilities are endless. But I decided to keep it tame. You're welcome.)