Good lord woman. If i had tits like yours I'd own half the world by now.
Good lord woman. If i had tits like yours I'd own half the world by now.
I saw the movie, he said. I know what it's about. Listen to this. When girls get to be about twelve or so - he leaned toward us - their tits bleed.
Nest boxes are incredibly easy to build or buy and can make a huge difference to the lives of our garden birds. In return you get the enjoyment of watching them raise a family. Blue tits love them but, depending on where you are in the country, you could get all manner of species moving in.
If women were meant to play football, God would have put their tits somewhere else.
I do have big tits. Always had 'em-pushed 'em up, whacked 'em around. Why not make fun of 'em I've made a fortune with 'em.
I'd rather be treated like any other model - being booked because a client likes the look of me, not because I'm size 16 with big tits. There's nothing sexual about model's typical androgynous skinniness.
They grew really quickly. One minute I didn't have any tits and the next I had the biggest tits in the world.
Here I was, amid 500 tits, and I was principally paying attention to the social aspects of the event. It was neither puritanical nor prurient.
Maybe I couldn't make it. Maybe I don't have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky ass, a sexy voice. Maybe I don't know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I'm sick of the masquerade. I'm sick of pretending eternal youth. I'm sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I'm sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs I'm sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I'm sick of the Powder Room. I'm sick of pretending that some fatuous male's self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I'm sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I'm sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.
How many ladies in the house tonight Fans scream Oh, sht... All you ladies scream Fans scream again Now that I have the ladies' attention, I want to tell you something. Some day, you're going to go to a concert and see a rock star. He may look like me, or him, or us, or any one, and he's going to tell you if you show him your tits he'll take you backstage. And I want you... to spit in that mother fer's face Fans scream Because you are better than that.
People just don't know how to handle it if a woman uses smarts and brains rather than tits.
The people who worked at the clubs just assumed I was a tagalong girlfriend or groupie. I'd get up on stage and the audience was just like, 'Show me your tits' I had nothing to show anyway.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories