It happened. The great deflation. The two tube socks with a tennis ball at the ends. The depressed twins, scowling at the floor.

These two were never "upbeat" to begin with, but they were hanging in there. I've lost a stone, maybe more at this point, and it began with a glance in the mirror today.

"That's a weird dimple", I thought, and then saw the stretch marks.

And then I saw the complete lack of volume at the top, and I'm putting a bounty out on who ever snuck in my room last night, popped my balloons and then left. Wanted: Dead or alive.

I'm laughing because it's the only barrier between me and tears. I cannot believe I'm seeing Granny Mable titties at 30 because I ate more fucking vegetables.

I'd rather not have boobs than have them so miserable to be in each other's company.

The kicker is.... Losing weight was beginning to make them look perkier??? My hubby commented on it several times, they seemed higher. And now they've taken sky diving lessons out of what - spite? Hatred? Principles?

I can't afford surgery, and I have keloid/badly scarring skin which also hits that on the head.

How do you folks deal with this side of things?