Through a process of rigorous study involving towering reams of surveys and strictly scientific Internet research, it has been determined that big boobs are awesome. Having been in possession of some especially massive sweater puppies, though, I'm inclined to disagree. To be fair, I got surgically rid of them at an age when calling them "sweater puppies" probably would have landed you on some kind of list. In fact, at 12 years old, I was one of the youngest people ever to have that particular surgery (I was beaten out by an 11-year-old, that bitch). I didn't expect the adults to join in, though. During a meeting with my sixth-grade teacher to discuss why my grades had fallen from "Now you're just showing off" to "We've had to start using an entirely different alphabet," I hesitantly opened up about the teasing that played no small part in the problem. In response, this 60-year-old woman said, quite matter-of-factly, "Maybe you wouldn't have such a problem if you didn't wear such tight shirts." I didn't know what to say at the time. I think I just stammered out an objection that the shirt I was wearing -- a perfectly normal T-shirt -- wasn't that tight. It was an embarrassingly long time before I realized that her statement was so many kinds of wrong that it's actually sold at the Wrong Store in Wrongingham, Wrongland, in different shades of wrong. Yes, obviously a literal child was intentionally flaunting her shameful body despite the clear distress it caused, you horror-show of a person. Constitutional Bits of Trivia We’ve Enshrined Into Law, and Which Cannot Be Redacted or Altered in Any Way (Unless We Decide at Some Point That We Want To) As you can imagine, my classmates weren't terribly nice to me. Children are monsters to begin with, zooming in on anything that makes you even a little different. And I grew up to be a comedy writer, so it's not like I was ever socially well-adjusted in the first place. What has always puzzled me, though, is the assumption that tons of people make that a well-endowed girl must also be sharing her gifts with half the greater metropolitan area, and people do start forming those ideas even when the subject of their assumption is 11 years old. All kinds of nasty rumors were spread about me, never mind that it was plain to see I was horrifyingly awkward around boys. So those things I wasn't worried about at the time ended up mattering a lot. Still, when I think about not having the surgery and weigh the downsides (spinal deformities and medieval underwear) against the upsides (the possibility of a lucrative porn career), I feel like settling for baby formula and a middle-of-the-road porn career has worked out pretty well for me.

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Gina Carano Claims That Disney Exec Kathleen Kennedy Will Go After Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s Families for ‘South Park: Joining the Panderverse’ Just in time for Valentine's Day, Playboy has announced its 63-year-old magazine will return to publishing naked women. Moms of every kind look on in disapproval. When I was in nursing-assistant training, my supervisor was constantly yelling at me to stand up straight, and I wanted to scream, "LOOK, LADY, I WILL STAND AS STRAIGHT AS YOU WANT IF YOU HAND ME SOME OF THAT PERCOCET OVER THERE," but you don't wanna launch into your whole medical history, and also yelling about lifting pain meds in a hospital is probably a bad idea. But standing straighter doesn't actually straighten my spine -- it just forces my rib cage forward, causing my shoulders to turn into blades of pain after just a few minutes, which doesn't feel nearly as awesome as it sounds. An amazingly short 10 years later, I gave birth to my beautiful baby girl, and the one week that I attempted to breastfeed her was the most painful and frustrating week of my life. If you imagine normal women as bountiful waterfalls, I was a bathroom faucet that leaked occasionally. I kept trying because the only way to increase production is to feed more, but by the end of the week, my baby had lost a full pound and I wasn't in great shape either. I don't want to get too gross here, but my doctor eventually took me by the shoulders and said, "She's getting more blood than milk." (Which, now that I think about it, explains a lot about my daughter.) I conceded defeat, tired of having that baby on my boob 24 hours a day anyway, and she gulped down that first bottle as if she were starving to death, because she kind of was. Imagine the Casino head-vice scene, only even less safe for work, more cursing, and every day of your life.