Anne2345
11-03-2013, 09:03 PM
Hello Everybody!!
It’s me again, and I am back with yet another boob post. :D
By now, I would guess and imagine y’all are probably wonderin’ what sort of wacky shenanigans or crazy hijinks good ole nutty Anne has gotten herself into with her boobs this time, huh? <<cue the cheesy ‘70s television sitcom laugh track now>>.
Well, it’s nothing dirty or pornographic, so don’t even go there. And for all y’all whose thoughts went down there and straight into the gutter anyways – shame on y’all!!
I can assure you that the prim, proper, well-mannered and cultured lady that I am, such heathen and barbaric thoughts would never cross this sweet, delicate, innocent mind, but I do note that I am beginning to meander somewhat off topic . . . .
Anywho, with all pleasantries and good humor aside, I do believe it’s now appropriate to return to the subject matter at hand – that being my boobs. Or stated another way, and to be more specific, my boobs that I held in my hands this morning when I woke from a long, nice, hard dead sleep.
At first, though, waking from sleep this morning was no different than most any other day. I groaned in disapproval just ever so slightly upon the first hint of consciousness. I rolled slowly and gracelessly over on to my side, and pried open my slumber battered eyes. I wondered about all the thick, hazy fog encapsulating my brain, laid there dazed and confused for several moments as I attempted to compose myself and figure out exactly where I was and how I got there. I cursed the ancient Greek gods that something actually had the audacity to cause me to wake. And in the end, as I always do, I eventually surrendered to the need to actually get up and abandon my comfortable cocoon pile of lovingly worn, broken-in blankets and pillows to go tinky.
It was during this time, while on my way to the bathroom, that I discovered not all was as it was before. Invariably, as I am wont to do during my morning pilgrimage to the lou, both of my hands rose in harmony, and simultaneously grasp the small, warm boob blobs that have slowly grown and taken residence upon my chest since beginning HRT almost a year ago.
This morning, like everything else up until that point, was no different. Except this time, this morning, when I performed my ritualistic boob blob grasp, what I felt immediately caught my attention and instantly woke me from all residual feelings of grogginess and sluggishness.
What I felt, what I held tenderly and lovingly cupped within my hands, lent itself to another one of those total OMG moments. My boobs, my boobs, had seemingly all of a sudden grown much in substance. Although not necessarily reflected in a substantial change in visible size (after having checked them out from every conceivable angle in the mirror, they have grown some in size since my last “growth spurt,” but not a lot), it was not the size that caught my attention to begin with.
Rather, it was that my boobs felt more substantial to me as I held them. They felt heavier. They felt more real. They felt . . . wonderful and amazing.
It was a big time OMG moment!
As in, OMG my boobs are growing!! As in, OMG I actually do have real freaking boobs!! As in, OMG HRT actually works as advertised and is freaking awesome!! As in, OMG I am really really doing this!!! As in, OMG I can’t believe I am really really doing this!!! As in, OMG this is sooo incredible, sooo exciting, and soooo crazy!!!
As in, OMG, WTF is going on and WTF am I doing??!!
All of these thoughts, all of these emotions, all of these feelings simultaneously and with reckless abandon crashed the party that was my mind with total and complete disregard for my sanity in the span of an eye blink.
It was intense. It was nuts. It was insane. It was unbelievable.
Except that it was believable. It was also beautiful. It was magnificent. It was very much needed. It was also completely both real and surreal at the same time.
And it was scary.
I mean, wow! Just plain wow!! The significance of the moment was staggering. Coupled with my growing hair, my HRT-induced softened face and skin, my pierced ears, my smooth and hair-free body which is slowly losing its former masculine muscle tone and strength, it’s all changing.
Everything, in fact, is changing, and beginning to change more rapidly and significantly and noticeably. Or at least, that is the way it is beginning to feel, which is great by me, because I did ask for this after all. I knew what would happen going in. But knowing what is going to happen, versus actually experiencing it happen are two entirely different animals.
For me, during such moments, it's a pure, straight-up reality check. And today it was a reality check that caused me momentary pause. I mean, the reality is that growing boobs is no small thing. In that moment, along with all of the excitement, I also felt afraid of the future. I felt afraid about what I am doing. I even felt afraid of myself (which actually isn't all that uncommon, but I digress).
But beyond all of this, beyond all of the scattered thoughts, the fear, the excitement, the intensity, the emotions, and all of the unknown variables flying around out there, I knew this was right, and I know I am becoming right.
I am becoming who I need to be, in both fact and reality, and I am excited by and scared of the prospect.
One thing is for sure, though. I do not suffer from uncertainty. I may not always be strong. I may break down and lose it from time to time. But I ain’t stopping now, and I certainly ain’t backing down. I am in it to win it.
Oh, and just so there is no doubt whatsoever, I absolutely love, love, love my growing boob blobs . . . . :battingeyelashes:
It’s me again, and I am back with yet another boob post. :D
By now, I would guess and imagine y’all are probably wonderin’ what sort of wacky shenanigans or crazy hijinks good ole nutty Anne has gotten herself into with her boobs this time, huh? <<cue the cheesy ‘70s television sitcom laugh track now>>.
Well, it’s nothing dirty or pornographic, so don’t even go there. And for all y’all whose thoughts went down there and straight into the gutter anyways – shame on y’all!!
I can assure you that the prim, proper, well-mannered and cultured lady that I am, such heathen and barbaric thoughts would never cross this sweet, delicate, innocent mind, but I do note that I am beginning to meander somewhat off topic . . . .
Anywho, with all pleasantries and good humor aside, I do believe it’s now appropriate to return to the subject matter at hand – that being my boobs. Or stated another way, and to be more specific, my boobs that I held in my hands this morning when I woke from a long, nice, hard dead sleep.
At first, though, waking from sleep this morning was no different than most any other day. I groaned in disapproval just ever so slightly upon the first hint of consciousness. I rolled slowly and gracelessly over on to my side, and pried open my slumber battered eyes. I wondered about all the thick, hazy fog encapsulating my brain, laid there dazed and confused for several moments as I attempted to compose myself and figure out exactly where I was and how I got there. I cursed the ancient Greek gods that something actually had the audacity to cause me to wake. And in the end, as I always do, I eventually surrendered to the need to actually get up and abandon my comfortable cocoon pile of lovingly worn, broken-in blankets and pillows to go tinky.
It was during this time, while on my way to the bathroom, that I discovered not all was as it was before. Invariably, as I am wont to do during my morning pilgrimage to the lou, both of my hands rose in harmony, and simultaneously grasp the small, warm boob blobs that have slowly grown and taken residence upon my chest since beginning HRT almost a year ago.
This morning, like everything else up until that point, was no different. Except this time, this morning, when I performed my ritualistic boob blob grasp, what I felt immediately caught my attention and instantly woke me from all residual feelings of grogginess and sluggishness.
What I felt, what I held tenderly and lovingly cupped within my hands, lent itself to another one of those total OMG moments. My boobs, my boobs, had seemingly all of a sudden grown much in substance. Although not necessarily reflected in a substantial change in visible size (after having checked them out from every conceivable angle in the mirror, they have grown some in size since my last “growth spurt,” but not a lot), it was not the size that caught my attention to begin with.
Rather, it was that my boobs felt more substantial to me as I held them. They felt heavier. They felt more real. They felt . . . wonderful and amazing.
It was a big time OMG moment!
As in, OMG my boobs are growing!! As in, OMG I actually do have real freaking boobs!! As in, OMG HRT actually works as advertised and is freaking awesome!! As in, OMG I am really really doing this!!! As in, OMG I can’t believe I am really really doing this!!! As in, OMG this is sooo incredible, sooo exciting, and soooo crazy!!!
As in, OMG, WTF is going on and WTF am I doing??!!
All of these thoughts, all of these emotions, all of these feelings simultaneously and with reckless abandon crashed the party that was my mind with total and complete disregard for my sanity in the span of an eye blink.
It was intense. It was nuts. It was insane. It was unbelievable.
Except that it was believable. It was also beautiful. It was magnificent. It was very much needed. It was also completely both real and surreal at the same time.
And it was scary.
I mean, wow! Just plain wow!! The significance of the moment was staggering. Coupled with my growing hair, my HRT-induced softened face and skin, my pierced ears, my smooth and hair-free body which is slowly losing its former masculine muscle tone and strength, it’s all changing.
Everything, in fact, is changing, and beginning to change more rapidly and significantly and noticeably. Or at least, that is the way it is beginning to feel, which is great by me, because I did ask for this after all. I knew what would happen going in. But knowing what is going to happen, versus actually experiencing it happen are two entirely different animals.
For me, during such moments, it's a pure, straight-up reality check. And today it was a reality check that caused me momentary pause. I mean, the reality is that growing boobs is no small thing. In that moment, along with all of the excitement, I also felt afraid of the future. I felt afraid about what I am doing. I even felt afraid of myself (which actually isn't all that uncommon, but I digress).
But beyond all of this, beyond all of the scattered thoughts, the fear, the excitement, the intensity, the emotions, and all of the unknown variables flying around out there, I knew this was right, and I know I am becoming right.
I am becoming who I need to be, in both fact and reality, and I am excited by and scared of the prospect.
One thing is for sure, though. I do not suffer from uncertainty. I may not always be strong. I may break down and lose it from time to time. But I ain’t stopping now, and I certainly ain’t backing down. I am in it to win it.
Oh, and just so there is no doubt whatsoever, I absolutely love, love, love my growing boob blobs . . . . :battingeyelashes: