Oh, the joys of taking hormones.
My f’kin tits hurt!
It’s cost me a fortune in bras. If they hit D cup I’m dropping back to 4mg a day, enough already, I don’t like backache.
A slightly bigger bum is a bonus, outdoor seating has less of a freezing my f’kin arse off effect thanks to the extra padding an insulation.
Pickle jars, jam jars, sauce bottles, in fact, any glass container with a screw off lid. Where the f’k did my muscles go? Into my arse & tits, that’s where.
Screw off lids have become the bane of my life, long gone are the days when it was simply gripping, twist & off.
Oh no, now it’s an exercise in grim determination drowned out by expletives.
Run under the hot tap, scald hand, swear, grip glass bottle/jar between knees, grab tea towel, more swearing with a little sweating thrown for good measure & eventually off the pesky lid come, just as my dinner starts to singe around the edges, yet more swearing.
Having bigger boobs & a most excellent cleavage saves me a fortune in the alehouse, nothing better than cleavage & stocking tops at getting some drivelling pub dweller going to the bar & also paying for the drinks.
Drinks, alcohol, WTF is wrong with me, not too many years ago 8 or 9 pints of good old fashioned ale & a chippy supper were not a problem. Now, NOW I’m looking for the lowest ABV % & 3 or 4 pints later I feel like I’ve had 10 pints. FFS I’ve turned into the proverbial cheap night out.
At least the taxis aren’t busy at 8.30 pm & some lucky driver gets a fare going in the opposite direction to every other pub-goer in Bolton, thanks to some half-cut bitch in the back seat.
As far as a chippy supper goes, after 4 pints that’s a big no-no, it may look delicious when I buy it, not so much when the pavement catches it after it reappears ten minutes later.
Oh, the joys of hormones & womanhood. Is it worth it?
TOO BLOODY RIGHT IT IS
