How to get the best of heredity.

1. Let your hereditors know.
2. Select the finest to show people.
3. Be proud.
4. Select the used to hide it.
5. Be ashamed.

What is happening? Your chest hurts like falling into a vat of forgotten birthdays. And you seem to be in need of some sort of support system.
Say, “Mom, Dad… I need a brassieropter.”
(Do not look like a fool and say bra!)
Go to the “Little Shop of Little Brassieres for Little Girls Store” store.
Just kidding.
There is no such thing.
Go to J.C. Penny.
Be astounded. The colors! The variety! The combinations! Pink with blue swirls! Neon green with purple bows! Lace! Net! Barbies! My Little Pony! Bras that tell you what day it is or what type of compound sentences you should use to advance in life.

Don’t go crazy. Pick a simple one.
White with a little pink ribbon on the front and a ninja-fighting dragon on the back.
Go home and don’t even go to the bathroom to test the little baby out.
Go to the living room, in front of my mom, pop, lil’ sis, Marge- the nosy neighbor, Lewis and Clark, Bob Parker, underprivileged children and just strip.
Stand up tall. Stand up proud.

What the fuck? Pain?
Check your boobs… not your boobs. But your back.
That little booger was scratching your back. And it hurt like that ugly bootleg Disney character double stitch orange sweater your Aunt Poopie Head gave you. The bra was just too small for you. You underestimated the length of your torso.

But you don’t care. For you are wearing a bra! Miss. Fefe Rose Princess Cool Awesome Bodacious Yeah was wearing a bra! (You call yourself that. Why? Who knows?) A fucking 12-dollar bra.
Can’t return it now.
But Mom wear bras… put one of hers on.
Put your mama’s bra on your boobies.
It snaps in the front too!

And not to offend mama, but she got some small boobies. All her bras are padded. We’re talking turbo super enhanced, surround sound, can store a small Mexican family padded. And you are that little girl who stuffs her chest with oranges, McDonalds happy meal toys and your turtle, Michelangelo Pop Rocks.
Keep wearing your Mom's bras.

Grow up without knowing the actual size of your boobs.
You don’t want to know anyway.
In your eyes you are a 67-Z triple axle loop.
Plus, you rather not know your real size than face the truth.