I AM A FAG XXVIX

I find myself at the end of one hell of a week. For those of you unlucky (or lucky??) enough not to be bombarded with my drunken excited ranting, you may not know that yes, on Tuesday, I underwent a breast implant procedure. Why? I was sick of feeling like a 12year old pre-pubescent being. I had had enough of my nipples capping a flattened plateau instead of two insurmountable peaks. I was fed up with attempting cleavage in an always-oversized bra with numerous forms of chicken fillets. I am a woman, and unfortunately my flatter-than-FlatsVille chest often made me mistake myself for a paedophile when I sleepily fondled my un-breasted chest midway through a lonely night. No longer do I see a budding 13 year old slightly-on-the-tubby side boy and grow sickly green with envy over his luscious bosom. It is the age of bounce. The age of cleavage. The age of infra-breast storing of personal items such as telephone and, appropriately, cigarettes. Now I could rage on the topic of breast augmentation until I’m blue in the face, yet we’re here for a reason. And a good one at that. Cigggggs. Now if you HAD noticed that my bloggin’ has dwindled down to non-existence, I apologise. My internet access has been near to nil, and although technology advances, I still can’t manage a way to conjure a wireless network with my thoughts alone.

I am proud to declare (as I hope you are proud of me too) that my smoking around the time of my procedure has been reduced ridiculously and limited to a handful of cigarettes a day. After all, I do wish to heal these babies so I can wack them out and reap the benefits ASAP. Though I have found it difficult to limit my smoking, I tell myself (knowingly and very correctly) that less smoking=less healing time. Ah you doctors finally have hit a soft spot with me. Tell me smoking will rot my silicone and you’ll hardly ever see me with a fag in my hand...

So, Champion Blue is, of late, my tabacco of choice. Perche? Easily accessible through various sale points including Coles and seveneleven. and in addition, Hunty dearrrrr has chosen Champion (champion for a champion one could say..) as his baccy of choice. Nice. Let's crunch some numbers before i get too wacky Mc wack wacked on the drugs i am consuming, let's just say i could fucking start up a very successful and profitable drug ring with the amount of meds i must pop each and every day (and tri and quad-daily at that. Noice)

Attractiveness of Pack- Shleak blue colour suggests simplisity and minimalist form. Sure labels brandish the pack, but in essence there is little more than necessary visually. The pack lends itself to dishevelling however, as relying on a sticky tab alone to seal and reseal and reseal and reseal is dangerous...the threat of disadherence (yeah i make up words too..) after use is very real. And unfortunately this means that i am forced to ensure the virginal qualities and togetherness of the product by sealing it in a hair band. No this is not a complaint as such, just an observation about the general lack of realworld and roadworthy testing that the company sadly suffers. 3 out of 5 malignant tumours.

Smoothness and Flavour- No where near the kick of a testy White Ox, yet smooth enough to discount this flaw and have you almost kid yourself that you're getting the best tabacco money can buy. Yes, Champion is cheap. Dirt cheap. Criminally cheap. Yet there remains an unsatisfaction reaped from this tabacco that generally i am left feeling a little empty. micro vacuoles of 'please-fill-me' fill my being. Good is good but never can good be great. 3 out of 5.

Burning time- If you havent already cottoned on to my additude about the very DIY nature of rollies, then wake the fuck up. As i have said time (and possibly time again) you decide. The power is sweetly and pleasurably in your hands. Aaaoo. But in terms of the actual combustion rate of the threads of tabacco itself, i'd say they do smoulder a little quicker than their rivals? Again it is very difficult to judge, but my seasoned senses know when things are happening all a little too quickly. So you're now forced to take my word for it or run for the hills? Yeah i know what i would be choosing too......3 out of 5 mal

Lingering Taste- Kudos for trying, fuck you for not quite pulling through. I mean a flavour remains present in the mouth for a considerable amount of time after inhalation yes i will admit, but it seems so minimal, and almost unpleasant, that only wrigley's or gloria jeans can disperse the filthy dirt i-just-sucked-a-bog taste from my mouth. ick. 1 out of 5.

AVERAGE SCORE FOR CHAMPION BLUE- 2.5 out of 5. Yes they've met me halfway, but i am a bitch and i ask for more more MORE!

Well whilst the maccas wifi is still holding up strong, while the coffee is still hot, and my tits are still supported well in my lusciously sexy sports-bra mutation (ick) i may as well fill in the time with another few words about b-b-boobs?
Too much information perhaps (if you're of the belief that girls dont poo or talk about poo then turn away now..) but they were REALLY serious when they told me that on the drugs i'm takin i would be constipated. Ha i laughed and thought of how wrong they probably are.

No. here and now, i admit i was wrong.
Never have i felt a larger burdon on my shoulders. Day one day tow DAY THREE passes with only the most minimal of poops. How can a person live like this?!! through scalpel and mega huge injection, sedation and stitches, constipation still reins as the worst part about this procedure.

When 20+ sennakot tablets, litres of fluid and a whole lot of 'oh please please' doesnt get things moving, you really begin to fear for not only YOUR life but the continued existance of human life itself.

Happy am i to report that as of this morning i am no longer plugged. Well hello. Never have i been so proud of a poop in my life.

Oh dear lord let's stop it here before the vomitting of masses is blamed on my vulgar tale.

Well until next time i leave you,
As my boobs soften, skin stretches, libido increases, appetite remains non existant, love for fags remains as steady as ever, and desire to bounce bounce bounce free of this sportsbra, i ask you to keep me in mind as you go for your evening jogs, lie flat on your tummy, or have sex. Things that iam craving craving craving with frightening force but as of yet cannot engage in. balls.

Catch you later fellows.

My bossomed, heaving, bi-silicone love.

Come meet the twins one day when you're free eh?

X. M