Initially, I thought all of these mistakes came from me, meaning that I was slightly overweight. Mum always encouraged me that personality and intellectuality are more important than physical beauty, but having these silicon-implanted look-alikes protruding on my chest instantly made male colleagues think of me as a slutty airhead. Even with all of Mum’s encouragement for me to be confident with my well endowed figure, I have already set my mind on losing weight in hope that

I could not believe my ears as I listened more to their conversation, both wanted to inflate their breasts two sizes up, into what they believe was more a womanly figure. As I slowly opened my t-shirt, I noticed that both of them were prying at my breasts in amazement and I could vaguely hear one girl whispered “nice tits” to the other as they start to walk out of the room.

Hell yeah I was ecstatic to see the before and after pictures of the patients who have undergone the operation. One woman’s breasts actually went down almost two cups from a pendulous 34 D to 34B, the perfect tear-shape size I have always dreamt of! Yet the sparks of happiness started to fade out, as soon as I saw the cost of the-so-called reconstructive surgery! The five figures (I am talking dollars here!) numbers actually had sunk my last hope of saying goodbye to the Dolly nickname (from Dolly Parton, not the cloning sheep!), just like the iceberg that hit the Titanic.

Cursing to myself and my Mum’s generous genes, I tried to seek some contemplation by going to the gym (hey, this girl still believes if we try hard enough at least God would answer our prayers!).

Some topics in this essay:
, Cursing Mum’s, Dolly Parton, slutty airhead, size 8, rest body, body blessed, perfect-sized breasts,