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Posted: Sat Jun 07, 2008 5:18 am
Fresh from my shower, I stand in front of the mirror, complaining to my husband that my breasts are too small.
Instead of characteristically telling me it's not so, he uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion: "If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between them for a few seconds."
Willing to try anything, I fetch a piece of toilet paper and stand in front of the mirror, rubbing it between my breasts. "How long will this take?" I ask.
"They will grow larger over a period of years," he replies.
I stop. "Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts every day will make my breasts larger over years?"
Without missing a beat he says, "Worked for your arse, didn't it?"
He's still alive and, with a great deal of therapy, may even walk again.
Instead of characteristically telling me it's not so, he uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion: "If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between them for a few seconds."
Willing to try anything, I fetch a piece of toilet paper and stand in front of the mirror, rubbing it between my breasts. "How long will this take?" I ask.
"They will grow larger over a period of years," he replies.
I stop. "Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts every day will make my breasts larger over years?"
Without missing a beat he says, "Worked for your arse, didn't it?"
He's still alive and, with a great deal of therapy, may even walk again.
