Bargain Basement Boobs

My girlfriend brought an advertisement to my attention yesterday that brought about waves of raucous laughter for us, and other like minded twisted minds out there to be sure. Apparently the economy is so bad that plastic surgeons are giving deals on boob jobs. The image of a carnival barker instantly came to mind...step right up ladies...buy one breast implant and we'll give you the second one free...so, hurry, hurry, hurry, step right up...Call me crazy, but I don't want my breasts anywhere near the lowest bidder. I'm afraid I'll wind up looking like a Picasso. I want top dollar titties, and I won't mind paying very high prices for quality work when the time comes.

I love these women who go to third world countries for their nip/tucks and come home with a face full of industrial grade silicone, and then complain about being deformed. Are we suppose to be shocked? Are we supposed to feel sorry for them? I mean really...hello, what did they expect? If patient and doctor don't even speak the same language, and are relying on translators and hand gestures to communicate then, like it or not, you'll be eating all of your meals through a straw because you won't be able to close your mouth. Heeey...you saved a lot of money though, right? I believe in the adage, 'you get what you pay for.' Cheaper and plastic surgery are two words that don't belong next to each other—ever.

So, for now I'm content to stick with my mighty push-em-up bra to elevate my boobs out from around my belly button. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but only somewhat. I'm not as vain as I used to be, but I still want to look my best especially when I sell millions of copies of my book and am suddenly thrust into the public eye. When that very first royalty check slides into my palm, I'll be the first in line at Dr. Rey's in Beverly Hills for the finest nippin' and tuckin' money can buy. You'll never look at me and say...Oooh, poor woman. All she could afford was those bargain basement boobs....