In defense of my bosom

Well, if you happened to stumble into Dooce's comments last night, you'd have seen that there was a rash of female bloggers posting pictures of their own bazongas. We won't name names on who started it, but then Torrie jumped bravely into the fray, followed by the erstwhile Lawbrat.

And no, I did not, like my friends, run to fetch my camera, rip open my bodice, and let the flash fly wildly over my exposed or at least nipplified melons. I was goaded and baited, but I kept my hooters safely under wraps and all to myself, selfish bitch that I am.

Now, in the course of this conversation, I claimed exemption by reason of excessive gravitational damage. But I have to confess, this is not true.

The reason, the real and true reason I did not share my mammalian protruberences with y'all, is this: Once you got a look at 'em, you'd never leave me alone. My inbox would be flooded with indecent proposals and offers of cash and expensive consumer items, my phone would ring until it was hoarse, everyone would be bribing Jim for a peek in the boudoir window...people, I just can't handle that kind of intense pressure. I will not be treated as just a sex object! Well, okay, I will, but that's a whole different discussion.

So, there you have it, the titty truth. My cha-cha-bingos, they are just two too spectacular for me to spring on the world. I can't, in good conscience, be held accountable for the chaos and mass arousal that would result.

I am being responsible here.