grow boobs, grow.

Every time I have to do an essay (I'm in the midst of one), my waist will grow and expand exponentially. This is due to all the extra junk I eat, in order to concentrate on my readings.

Thing is: after an essay, my waist is never the same again. Never. It goes past the elastic point, and undergoes deformation (yikes, I forgot all my physics terms) and is permanently stretched. No chance of it shrinking back to its original size. Now I know how pregnant women feel. Ugh.

Of course, I try to console myself it's all for your own good, it's your essay you know, 3rd year already, so it's okay to eat jumbo-sized bars of Galaxy chocolate and I have an excuse to buy new (but bigger) clothes.

Now, if only I can apply that to my boobs. I'd have bigger ones than Jordan. Au naturale to boot. Check it out below:

Introducing Jordan/Katie Price:

Damn, I also want (part one).

Either that, or a slimming package at Marie France Bodyline. I can always try to look for one of those corsets which push up all the flab to your chest, plumping up a non-existent cleavage, giving you a wasp-like waist, and a concave tummy. Woohoo.

Laetitia Casta. She's so pretty.

Damn, I also want (part two).

Just think, I would never ever need to exercise again. Not that I do, but that's not the point. It's the thought behind it.

I think I've procrastinated long enough, it's time to get back to my essay (I have a grand total of 13 words - it's the title), switch from bimbo to geeky mode, and try to impress my tutor with convoluted-but-intellectual-sounding sentences.

Stretta: This time, I hope my boobs will grow alongside with my waistline.

Coda: I suddenly recall the advertisement back home for some instant milk formula, with the little kiddies belting out: "We love 'Grow'! We love 'GROW'!"
Okay okay, out of point.