Do I have to say it again? I ain’t lactating, dammit!

Mopsy here. Yes, when I get really, really angry, I say ain’t. And right now, I am hopping mad. Truly.

Once again, due to Flopsy’s foibles, I am forced into a situation because The Body can’t treat us as individuals. It’s insulting.

Flopsy has been missing her one True Love so much that all she can do these days is cry, cry, cry and heave a sob, then cry some more. It got so bad that The Body was getting a little embarrassed  because all of Flopsy’s tears made her shirts wet as if she were a leaking, nursing Mom. Not that leaking or nursing or being a Mom are bad things, except when you aren’t one. Then, it’s just weird.

The Body tried to console Flopsy and even let her speak to her one True Love on the phone a few times. Truthfully, that just made things much worse. Flopsy started crying even more! The Body really got pushed over the edge when walking past a bar and was lasciviously asked to join a wet t-shirt
contest.

In desperation, The Body went out and bought a nursing bra. It’s horrible! It’s terrible! I feel like I am suffering from claustrophobia all the time and I can’t breathe. Do you know nursing bras chafe the skin? If I can’t breathe then it may kill my brain cells and I will be in danger of being kicked out of Mammary Mensa and will have to step down as the Chair.

This distresses me to no end. Simply because Flopsy can’t get a grip, I have to suffer.

And I ain’t lactating, dammit!

Things got worse when Flopsy started having panic attacks and kept filling up her cup with tears. She almost drowned once or twice. With the True Love all the way in California, there would be no one to give her mouth-to-mouth. She decided poke little holes in the bra so she could breathe. First, can I just say for the record that I feel it was very unfair of her to do that without telling me. I am the one keeping it together and I am the one being punished due to Flopsy’s tears.

Flopsy got a hold of a pin left by Inspector 56 on a new shirt that The Body bought. Flopsy then poked a zillion tiny holes into the nursing bra, making something like a watering can top out of it. They say that necessity is the mother of invention and it must be true. This is wickedly brilliant, especially for a breast like Flopsy who usually relies on me to come up with the bright ideas.

Things are strained between us right now.

The Body, without knowing about the holes, went to the supermarket. Flopsy managed to hold it together until we got to the checkout line. Then she lost it, started hyperventilating and out came the waterworks. There was The Body, standing at the checkout line with multiple streams of Flopsy-tears running down the left side of her body. It wasn’t a little spot mind you, but an absolute torrent. It was then that I realized the holes were in the shape of a heart.

The Body had to wring out her shirt when we got home. She took off the nursing bra to inspect it. Aaaahhhh sweet air! The Body was really very cross with Flopsy when she saw the holes. But when The Body noticed the shape of the heart, she started to melt. She immediately tossed that wretched bra over the waterspout to use in the garden this spring and hopped onto the internet.

Flospy, The Body and I spent the rest of the evening on the phone with our True Loves looking at hotels for a getaway on the Oregon Coast. This made Flopsy brighten tremendously.

We’ll make up soon. I’m sure of it. It’s just that it’s hard to live in close proximity with such a drama queen. Then again, how long can you go without talking when you share not only The Body, but the bra and nightshirt too.

The other day Mopsy and I received a very painful letter from an avid reader of our blog. She said that she feels inadequate compared to Mopsy and I because we are double Ds and she is a B cup on a good day… And perhaps with a little tissue paper… Or a gym sock… Or two…

This made me very sad. I am a firm supporter of breast equality. I think all breasts are beautiful. Well, except that model Mary Segovia, and bless her. It was a tragic mistake to have that surgery.

For instance, Mopsy and I are often propositioned to do all sorts of seedy activities that are beneath us. These include wet t-shirt contests, pole dancing, working as singing strip-o-grams, mud and oil wrestling (gross) and getting more lowbrow attention than we would like. This is due to our size and has nothing to do with our sparkling personalities or our wit, charm, talent and smarts.

We are tired of our smaller sisters getting a bad rap. Breasts are like weight. They say no one is overweight, they are just in the wrong country, and the same is true with breasts.

Now it is true that Mospy and I have larger-than -life personalities, but I would like to think that this would be the case even if we were much, much, much smaller.

Mopsy and I went on strike. We were really frustrated with The Body. As you know, she promised to take us to the bank to open our own account last week. Though we drove past many banks, we never stopped. She said there was not enough time, and since she cannot drive due to the ankle surgery and recovery, we all have to rely on other people to drive us everywhere.

Mopsy and I tried pouting, whining, pleading and ended the week twiddling our nipples in anticipation. We decided the only way to spur The Body into action was to go on strike. Mopsy and I promised not to write any more blog posts until The Body made good on her promise. Now we understand the power of unions, and might even start a Boobie Union in the future. It worked!

Yesterday The Body took us to the bank. After much research, we decided to open our account at Wells Fargo Bank. It’s reputable, close to home and they also have locations in Southern California so we can take our True Loves out on a date when we are there. It was either that or Bank of America, and several years ago The Body had a bad experience with B of A, so she refused to take us there.

It was a very cold day Tuesday, so Mopsy and I decided it would be prudent to put on our striped wool knit hats so we wouldn’t get too nipply. Mopsy pointed out that if we had to sign our signature cards today, and wrote a check during summer, they might question our nipple prints if we were too cold due to the weather. We needn’t have worried. The air conditioning blasted so strongly in the bank, despite  the cold weather outside, that we had no choice as to the stance of our nipples. As soon as we removed our wool hats, our nipples went all pointy anyway.

We sat down with the branch manager, a lovely woman with the name of Eunice Von Mahkedep, to start our new financial journey. We had a lot of questions for her and worked up a list the week before. Sadly, The Body irritatingly changed her shirt and our notes were on the inside of her nightshirt. We had to wing it from memory.

Eunice insisted we call her by her first name. She was very helpful and explained the different options in savings, checking and money market accounts. She commended us on our entrepreneurial spirit. We did get some bad news though. Ends up nipple prints are not an accepted form of identification since there is no database as of yet for them. Our spirits dropped and we sagged a little at the news.

Eunice came up with a solution for our situation and we perked right back up. She suggested that The Body open the account, and have our names on the account as well. This means The Body will have to supply the fingerprint, but Mopsy and I can sign our checks by using our nipples. It was a great compromise, even though we really wanted to do this all on our own. We are attached to The Body, so I suppose it will have to do.

I asked for a copy of the signature card so we could share it with you, but Eunice suggested this might be a security risk. She is absolutely right. There are so many things that two breasts need to consider when venturing into financial freedom.

This means that Mopsy and I now have a job, a checking account and a goal. Once we have some money socked away, we will expand, opening a savings and a money market account. The future looks bright and we are very excited!

Yours Dearly,

~ Flopsy