My fore-parts, as you so ineloquently put it, have names.β I pointed to my right breast. βThis is Danger.β Then my left. βAnd this is Will Robinson. I would appreciate it if you addressed them accordingly.β After a long pause in which he took the time to blink several times, he asked, βYou named your breasts?β I turned my back to him with a shrug. βI named my ovaries, too, but they donβt get out as much.
All human males were as fascinated with cars as they were with breasts.
I've had the same breasts for my entire adult life.
Nature that framed us of four elements, warring within our breasts for regiment, doth teach us all to have aspiring minds.
Scientists now believe that the primary biological function of breasts is to make males stupid.
I made a decision to have a preventive double mastectomy. I started with the breasts, as my risk of breast cancer is higher than my risk of ovarian cancer, and the surgery is more complex.
Oh, the most fun thing I've ever been asked to autograph was breasts.
I'm particularly fond of boned chicken breasts with a little garlic under the flesh and cooked in a casserole for 40 minutes with a jar of olives, some cherry tomatoes and a spoonful of olive oil.
