Of boobs.

Something not too many people know about me: I'm an extremely light sleeper. My mother's convinced it's got something to do with how I was an extremely deep sleeper as a kid, and that something traumatic must have happened to make me snap out of it. Now, unless I'm extremely tired, or extremely comfortable (like I was last night.... oh the joys of blissful slumber!) It's not uncommon for me to wake up several times during the night.

For the past week, my sister's been sleeping in my room, and I'm not used to having someone else in my bed, so I didn't get much sleep. At least, I'm blaming my complete zombic state on Thursday on my light-sleepiness. I somehow convinced myself it was Tuesday, and that my classes started at 2, when actually they started at 12. So I rushed all the way down to school, only to realise that I didn't need to be there for my 12 o'clock class. I would've snuck out during the break, but my project group leader decided to sit right next to me, and I thought it would be kind of rude to just leave, so I stayed.

By the end of those two hours, I was ready to fall asleep on the floor of the LT, so I decided to skip my evening lecture and go shopping instead. I'm going to force myself to sit through the webcast though. I don't particularly want to fall behind in just the second week of school.

Something I realised during my marathon window shopping session (I was out for at least 5 hours, and I didn't buy a single thing. I did manage to be $50 poorer from repaying outstanding debts, but that's a whole 'nother story all together) is that Singapore just does not cater to big boobied women. I mean, honestly. All these absolutely gorgeous clothes, sales everywhere, I should've been in bliss. But noooo.

And just to prove it, here are some pictures:

Sure, it looks like it fits. But my babies really can't breathe in that thing, pretty as it looks. I'm not the firmest believer in that whole No pain, No gain ideology.

I felt gorgeous in that top.... till I realised how smutty my cleavage made me look. Plus, you can see my bra. And when you're more well endowed, you can't exactly buy into the whole liberation-burn-your-bras-let-them-hang-free deal, unless you want them to hang free down between your damn knees.

I dare you to tell me they don't look squished. I just dare you.

I adore this dress. I really really do. And if the damn thing would've zipped up over my boobs, I would've bought it in a heartbeat. But noooooo.

At least I know that if I ever decide to become a cat burgler, I can find clothes that suit that profession.

The one top I found which fit, didn't suffocate, and didn't make me look smutty. Unfortunately, I'm also a complete spendthrift, and find the idea of spending $50 on a pullover that I'm only going to be able to wear for another couple of weeks before having to retire it till the next monsoon season completely ludicrous.

So there you have it ladies and gentlemen. Next time you hear a woman complaining about being too flat, give her some padding, and tell her where to shove it.