Moving (Mammaries)

Moving is stressful even when it's all planned out.

And Im not a good planner.

At best I'm a decent improviser, and even then I could use some work.

Okay backstory.

So me and my partner have some downstairs neighbors who I have become really annoyed with over the past couple months.

Recently, they came upstairs and had the gall to tell us to quiet down at 7:00 p.m. on a Friday night. I had some younger cousins over to play nerf guns and run around, and my downstairs neighbors apparently have a newborn, something I didn't get the memo on. (They updated no one).

I'm not totally without compassion, if I had known that they have a newborn baby, I could have tried to be a little quieter, but we live in an apartment complex and I also think it's pretty ridiculous to expect that somebody is going to be quiet at 7:00 p.m. on a Friday nightn

Most of the time we are just playing video games or cooking or watching something, (sometimes massaging a ridiculous volume of sore girl glands.... But not that night 😅🥳)

Anyway, all this to say we started looking for new apartments and finally found one. Another apartment complex, but hopefully with no Karen neighbors.

I asked my dad to use his truck, which my partner drove (I'm not great at driving anymore since boob started bulging out and filling all the space between my torso and my knees .. you can imagine, my elbows getting close together is already an issue, nevermind the subtle back strength that you'll probably use entirely to turn the wheel, which I'm I end up having to use like a big wooden spoon in a cauldron of heavy tiddy, all of it pooled up between the steering wheel and my arms.)

Boxing stuff up wasn't easy either since ...yeah, breast becomes a hindrance to essentially every physical task I come into contact with (And believe me they are coming into contact with a lot more than they used to)

I'll be honest, I was being brave in that picture cuz I wanted to get one for y'all, I didn't really move toooo many boxes. (That one has a few fabrics and linens in it)

Bending over and lifting up boxes is not really my forte anymore. 24 pounds of tiddy isn't helping me at all. It's also not sturdy weight that's easy to maneuver, they squish into things, wobble on top of boxes, fill any space they can pour into, and sway forward when I drop stuff. They're heavy enough now that swaying forward actually makes me lose my balance a bit

Imagine you have two 12 lb dumbbells in your hands and you swing forward, now imagine it's jelly filled tiddz with no respect for my back. You're getting closer. Also they sore from constant hormonal stuff going on within.

I think I could get a Gold medal in complaining at this point.

I also found that I was getting out of breath quite a bit more than before. I guess it makes sense. I essentially have a jiggling rucksack on my front that wasn't there last year ... Still makes me feel a bit useless.

Like, I'm not actually breastfeeding, why the hell would nature see fit to make my body just keeping adding breast weight? I understand it's all chemistry and messed up biological systems, but it still keeps me perplexed.

I feel like evolutionary arguments don't even make sense here.

Survival of the fittest?

Survival of the tittest?!

I can barely move faster than a light jog without my front fat becoming a wave form. 😓

How's that helping me survive?! Lol

Anyway, I'm still here. Still working on acceptance. Thx for reading. Till next week

Tata from Hansel and Gretel 😅😂🤣