The breast that tried to kill

At first it seemed to me to be. He had comfortable straps that seemed wide enough not to break my shoulder. His dense lower lines were strong enough for the shuttle (but they were made for a woman).

However, it was not so nice that many "big" parts shared it. I wanted a nice bra even if my husband's opinion of the bra was "What's included".

I thought this was the perfect bra that I felt supported, and I looked a bit thinner in everything it was in place. I took care of it, hanging to be dry, as instructed by the nurse.

Then something happened. It just started a little on his side, just under my arm. I first ignored it, I thought I could only stand again. Every time I washed and worn, I would pull the wire further and the hole would be bigger.

Occasionally I pulled the ribs and the armpit at the same time from a piece under the rogue. I bought it, but the penetrating, lingerie lingerie remained, my ribs and armpits boldly protect myself.

We read new scientific discoveries every day. Scientists sent people into space. New drugs are used to treat many disorders and diseases. Every time a new active substance is placed on the market, we see that the advertisements that end up with a mild narrator say that their medicines can "cause …" and then quickly slip off a list of awful side effects. you see everything from high blood pressure to stigmas!

There are brilliant engineers who build sophisticated bridges and overpasses, roller coasters, complex machines and large buildings that can withstand earthquakes!

Why couldn't anyone develop the perfect bra? I know there is a brilliant female engineer who got up in the morning, put the girls in their place and thought it would be better!

Don't be fooled, I'm very grateful for your modern scientific discoveries! And I don't suggest that bra support is just as important as healing diseases. But if the bright minds could find those little blue tablets, we all know that not so ambiguous advertisements (bathtubs side by side, etc.) Thanks – why can't anyone figure out how to keep girls without interrupting your back , suppressing your shoulder, climbing everything in the wash, or trying to kill us? And if not too much trouble, would anyone at least put some of us at the top end of the cup chart?

I'm glad to say that I finally beat the bra of terrorists. I used my own little worn area against it and jumped out of the killer scandal! (Why was the chassis so sharp that he thought he was running over a slimy stone before placing it in the underwear of a poor, unsuspecting woman?).

Not the same, not quite supportive. But I can wear at least as much as I was afraid of the stabbed lung, and I have to explain it to the good people in ER.

I'm the underpass fighter!

Source by Amy M Van Duyn

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