There is a street in my town in which four houses in a row contain four women. They're all married, all mothers but one, all thirtysomethings, all attractive - and they all have enhanced breasts. I know this is true because I have seen all the women together, and let's just say that none of them went for subtlety. Spotting the decoy amongst the ducks ain't that hard.
Completely brazen about it, they were out on the town last Saturday, flaunting their curves. Being neighbours and plastic warriors, they call themselves the Breastford Wives. I smell the odour of some group couplings amongst this lot, but what they do with their Tupperware is their business.
I spent time chatting with the husband of the woman last to visit the cosmetic surgeon. I asked him what he liked most about his wife's new assets.
Well, he said, it puts the lie to the saying that more than a mouthful is a waste. And then there's the smell.
The smell, I asked?
Oh, for sure. For the first two weeks they have that new car smell. I tell you, it's like being in heaven.
Photo from here.
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