Limping and only lightly bouncing

I do know better than to go running without socks on, I do; if for no other reason than the fact that I've been hobbled by horrid blisters before based on the same error of podiatric ommission. But here we are with another little constellation of unecessary foot blisters on the same arch that always blisters when I'm not terrifically mindful of my footware. I enjoy the fact that I will never be jaded by life's experiences, since I apparently learn nothing from them and therefore cannot learn harsh life lessons about the meaninglessness of it all. FOREVER YOUNG, BABY!! Forever young and forever limping.

On a totally unrelated note, I just read an article that says the median bra size for the American woman is a 36DD. Now, I've always been cool with my baby-a rack (or trestle) - the minimal need for sportsbras, the enhanced sensitivity, the ability to wear plunging necklines while still seeming oddly tasteful - but I feel that this national upgrade virtually makes my bosom a commodity. In the realm of subjective faddish beauty, the norm is usually spurned in favor of the rare. In a world of jiggling buxomosity, the dainty decolletage can be nothing short of dead-sexy. Mostly this paragraph goes nowhere other than to exclaim: 36DD! Enjoy, teenage boys, enjoy.