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Fresh from my shower, I stood in front of the mirror complaining to
my husband that my breasts were too small. Instead of
characteristically telling me that it's not true, he
uncharacteristically came up with a suggestion:
"If you want your breasts to grow bigger, every day take a piece of
toilet paper and rub it between your breasts for a few seconds."
Willing to try anything, I got a piece of toilet paper and stood in
front of the mirror, rubbing it between my breasts.
"How long will this take?" I asked. "They'll grow larger over a
period of several years," my husband replied. I stopped. "Do you
really think that rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts
every day will make my breasts larger over the years?" Without
missing a beat he said, "Worked for your ass, didn't it?"
The subject of this story is still alive ... and with a great deal of therapy, he may even walk again. However he will probably have to continue to take his meals through a straw.
my husband that my breasts were too small. Instead of
characteristically telling me that it's not true, he
uncharacteristically came up with a suggestion:
"If you want your breasts to grow bigger, every day take a piece of
toilet paper and rub it between your breasts for a few seconds."
Willing to try anything, I got a piece of toilet paper and stood in
front of the mirror, rubbing it between my breasts.
"How long will this take?" I asked. "They'll grow larger over a
period of several years," my husband replied. I stopped. "Do you
really think that rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts
every day will make my breasts larger over the years?" Without
missing a beat he said, "Worked for your ass, didn't it?"
The subject of this story is still alive ... and with a great deal of therapy, he may even walk again. However he will probably have to continue to take his meals through a straw.