Ta Ta's

I remember a time when the mere utterance of the word “bra” could make me turn beet red. In the days of training bras and A cups, I could have sworn trips to the mall were some sick scheme for my mother to embarrass me down to the core. She would say, “I think we need to get you some bras a size bigger” and I would whisper yell, “MOM! You can’t say things like that in public!”

But, in the past few months, I’ve lost all sense of embarrassment when it comes to “the girls”. These days, I can be seen popping one out in my living room, in a random (and well lit) parking lot, or (heaven forbid) in front of the in laws. All of a sudden my “voluptuous ta- tas” have become “milk bags”. What gives? A baby, that’s what.