Lads, you might want to skip this post. Girlie things be afoot.

Right, so, I was talking to Liz and I realized something: breasts are total werewolves. Now, hold on, stay with me! They really are like werewolves, and here’s why:

1) They sneak up on you in the night, when you’re helpless and innocent
2) Once you’ve been “bitten”, your life is changed forever; no going back
4) They refuse to be caged!
5) There is a hierarchy—the biggest are the “best”, the alphas
6) During the full moon, they—painfully—turn into monsters
7) They are magical things (in their sexual power, and as baby-feeders)
8)There is social stigma surrounding them—and with that, endless myths, misunderstandings, mutters, and Save The B(r)easts! campaigns

. . . and you know you’ve drunk the English Major Kool-Aid when you can make a convincing argument for why a secondary sex characteristic is akin to a supernatural creature. *head-desk*


I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

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