Okay so I’ll be honest, guys, I have no clue what I’m wearing for Valentine’s Day yet. Like, I don’t even know what we’re doing yet. There was talk of going out for dinner, but we’ll see. I kind of think we’ll just bake a cake* and call it good.
So I think I have a bit of an excuse when I say I’m not sure what I’m wearing, but I still put together a dreamy outfit for that fancy, out-in-the-big-city date I could imagine having. This year I kept two things in mind for the outfit. First, colors. I have a post next week about how David and I have official colors for our lives, but for now I’ll just say red, turquoise, seafoam green.
I opted for the flowy red dress for one primary reason, which is the second thing I have in mind for this outfit. Cleavage. Oh and for any and all those who feel uncomfortable listening to me talk about my boobs, this would be a good time to stop reading. ❤
Yeah so boobs–it’s kind of my goal this year to, if not show them off per say, stop ignoring them and hiding them away from the world. It’s come to my attention that I frequently… how shall I put this… forget that they’re there. Seriously, go back through my fashion posts and count the number of times I show a necklace, or something fitted that shows off their size. Any post where the shirt is tight fitting, there is no sweater, and I’m not wearing a scarf.** I mean, don’t because that’s kind of creepy, but if any of you do leave a comment letting me know, because I’m genuinely curious and also too lazy to go look myself. I’m assuming the answer is going to be less than four, though.
Every couple of months I remember their existence, though, an occasion usually marked by a redundant conversation with David.
“Do my boobs look bigger to you?”
“No, they just look big” this sentence is usually joined with a gratuitous grope
“Okay but seriously, I think they’ve grown”
He gets a little more serious, actually appraising their size
“No babe, I think it’s just the shirt”
“Should I change?!”
“… Okay but seriously, should I?”
“I mean, if it’ll make you more comfortable, but you really look fine. Great. You look great”
“… I’m adding a scarf”
It’s a vicious cycle. I forget I have boobs until one day I remember and am overwhelmed by their size. I have these really vivid memories of being like twelve with just the beginnings of a chest and making these futile comparisons to the grown women in the gym we used to go to. They all had such full, complete looking boobs in all their glorious shapes and sizes, and mine looked just so unfinished. And somehow my brain got stuck in that mentality–that they were unfinished, and thus not very big.
Time to update that mental image, eh? To be fair I actually looked through a bunch of my old photos and if I can tell correctly, I went through a noticeable (and final?!) growth spurt right before I met David. Which is why, even if I forget their size, he definitely doesn’t.
So, um, in conclusion, Valentine’s Day = more boobs. Man I am not looking forward to see the search engine phrases that’ll lead to this post… Oh also go check out Nicole’s post to see her slightly less boob-filled post (although she has a naked man torso on there, so it’s not quite as family friendly as you’d think) as well as all the other ladies participating.
*Context: we baked a cake on our first date, it was how he asked me out. Literally–“Hi it’s David, from the other night, so I was wondering if you wanted to bake that beet cake with me”. It’s our go-to whenever we’re not sure what to do, although I think the number of times we’ve actually baked a cake is maybe twice. Maybe.
*True story, I almost didn’t post this outfit because it felt a little too revealing