Not since high school have so many people wanted to touch my boobs.

Oh sure, I would like to say that it was just my witty personality that made me so popular in high school, but I realize it was most likely my perfectly sculptured, very large tits.
Back then, I had the whole package and it worked.

Long hair, tanned skin, toned sports body and a pair of DD sized tits. The high school boys were suckers for them but I had visions of girls swinging from them. Alas, I lived in Alabama and the vision of being drug behind a truck for being gay outweighed the one of my prom date wearing the dress instead of me.

Yes, I was witty, but there was no mistaking that I also had a big ass rack!

It’s amazing to me these things, also referred to as ‘fun bags,’ ‘dairy pillows,’ and ‘yummy yams,’ can become a part of one’s identity. There’s something so superficial, egotistical and vein about our society’s obsession with ‘rib bumpers.’

I had no idea as a self-professed dykie, woman-loving packer that I was so wrapped up in my breasts. For the most part I thought that I hated them… that they were always in the way when it came time to shop for shirts, bathing suits and bras. It’s hard to squeeze DD’s into a Kenneth Cole shirt meant for fat, perfectly sculptured fag chests.

So, when it came time to say goodbye to my ‘whim whams,’ I wanted to be sure that they felt honored on their last night on earth.

I weighed all of the celebratory options and, being a classy redneck, I decided to go to Hooters! It only seemed fitting to take “the girls” to the one place in Nashville that celebrated the “wopbobaloobops.”

My party was comprised of a varied group: gay guys, who were really only their to have a martini and judge the waitresses’ tacky orange spandex shorts; members of the “Little Bitty Titty Committee,” who were trying to be supportive but didn’t really understand the issue or the surgery; and my wife, who was most likely thinking about the first date I ever took her on, which happened to be at Hooters, too.

The next day, I had the surgery along with some great pain pills, lots of sympathy, gifts and size C cup breasts. Not only do they feel awesome, they apparently look awesome because not since high school have so many people been interested.

I don’t really understand it except to say that nobody wants to see a tomboy like me with big ole’ titties. But now, gay gays are standing in line to cop a feel and they’re not alone. Lesbians want to get a handful as they ask questions about getting their own surgery and other ladies are raising their hands for a platonic handful, just because.

Since they downsize is relatively new, I expect all the excitement will fad eventually. If people are still tryin’ to get a handful in six months, I’m not really sure what I’ll tell my wife.

But for now, I ain’t complaining. In fact, I encourage you to have a squeeze next time you see me. Me and the girls feel great! And the next time you find yourself at Hooters, think of us.

Live and Love Equally!