huh. I just realized that most of my restaurant life was spent working in six of these seven states. Only worked a bit in MA and IL where there was a different wage.

my comcast autofill would be something along the lines of:

paleo diet probably = scavenged bird eggs, grubs, miner's lettuce, misc. berries & roots. Not a 16-oz porterhouse steak with avocado mousse and coconut sugar and raw chocolate bon bons for dessert.

I want this on a t-shirt: "I don't want to smile, you ignorant, controlling fuckwit."

I'm sure that this deprivation has improved your character.*

I got lucky. I was pretty sure I knew the character of my partner, but we'd never had any hardship before we married. His family, though, is full of mensches ('though, again, I was lucky; I didn't meet the family until after we wed. Boy, I did everything wrong but things still turned out right: lucky!)

ASDLOTS.

is this penis jenga?

Nice shops with old ladies who've seen countless boobs tend to be the places to go—you know, places called "foundation shops":)

I keep hearing "A doula ate my baby," in that Meryl Streep-Australian Accent.

it's what my hippie friends have done. compared to drinking a placenta smoothie, placenta-tree-fertilizer seems downright innocuous:)

I guess that the old practice of burying the placenta and planting a commemorative tree over it is now passé?

You may have tried this already, but if you go to a professionally run bra store, they can alter your bras for you (it's pretty common for someone to need a cup size with a band that is too big), taking in the band to better fit. It's usually a free service, too.

No . . . there's a formula for how much weight each breast has to weigh in order to justify insurance paying (and it's scaled according to size/rib cage). At 28G, you sound like you might meet the metric. I'd go in for a consult with a couple of plastic surgeons and see what they say.

I don't think you have to explain or justify wanting smaller breasts. You just want them.

Stinky, sure, but not creepy.

I'm not sure Chuck would be down for the outfits. He seems like a let's-make-this-look-like-it's-in-nature kind of taxidermist; she's more formalist in her approach and is embracing artifice.

Here's a book recommendation for you, my friend (maybe you've already read it).

there's also the "choice" aspect. In high school, one's curriculum is fairly dictated, and a person can take a class in rock climbing to supplement the organic chem course.

Sure. It's totally weird, but I don't think it's necessarily creepy (no more than being obsessed with vampire novels or serial killer trivia). It's a way of managing death, yes? And understanding the natural world?