Life Without Cleavage.

I tighten the straps on my 32A bra so that it stays in place, because my breasts alone do not accomplish that feat. True life: I barely fit into an A cup.

I was talking to my fellow flat-chested friend not too long ago, and found myself telling her, "I wish I had boobs so I could feel like a woman." She shared my pain -- the pain of turning to the side and looking like a poster board, the pain of devising clothing contraptions to keep a strapless bra standing, the pain of making out with a guy and hoping he doesn't grab a handful of padded bra and freak the fuck out. She also shared with me her tales of making out, with the guy reaching up, realizing the mammary gland situation, and immediately moving down to the butt. At least she has a butt, though.

I've felt like a little boy for a large part of my life. I used to pray for boobs. I used to Google ways to increase my breast size. I've pretty much always been at least partially dissatisfied with my mosquito bites.

They were the subject of a tad bit of taunting in middle school. When high school came, no one seemed to care anymore. When I first reached second base at age fifteen, my boyfriend did not flee the scene. He told me he liked them, and so, I did too. Slightly embarrassing that my self-breast-acceptance was dependent on this and subsequent guys who complimented me. They just feel like an inadequacy sometimes disguised with content. My boobs don't jiggle. I can't wear regular triangle bikini tops. I feel like less of a woman around C and D cups, like a little girl posing as a 20-year-old -- like if you open my purse, you'll discover that all I really have in there is Jolly Ranchers and crayons.

I'm pretty sure everyone deals with this self or societally-inflicted form of feeling subpar. Guys who aren't porno worthy in the nether regions probably feel self-conscious every time they pull out a Durex, and not a Magnum XL. Variety makes the world go round, though. My boobs serve a purpose -- to induce small boob appreciation, maybe to debunk your commonly held theory that you are a "boob man," or at the very least, to girl talk with my fellow IBTC members about.

Reasonless Relationships.

My gay BFF has changed. Ever since he's been in a relationship, his phone is permanently attached to either his ear or his hand. The conversations are always the same, too. "You're not making time for me," or talking about the details of some guy one of them used to be involved with, in order to be fully "open" and "communicative" with one another. I don't think their methods are entirely healthy. I think their relationship has changed them, perhaps for the better in some ways, but in a lot of ways for the worse. Who am I to judge, though? From the outside looking in, I can only tell but so much. Ultimately, I am concerned only with their happiness. If my BFF tells me he is happy, I take his word for it, and can only be here for him when and if he decides he is not.

Everybody changes at least a little when they enter a relationship. Compromise is commonplace. However, I have seen some relationships which do nothing but demolish and destroy everything in its path -- relationships that are nothing less than unhealthy and offensive.

My straight ex-BFF now lives in a world only occupied by himself and his controlling Asian girlfriend. He's let it get to a point where she screams at him and throws things at the back of his head as a form of expressing her frustration. She can delegate who can and cannot come to his parties, regardless of what she knows about them in real life, if anything at all. She can, and has, forced him to cut off friendships that existed way before she was ever even an integral part of his life. What's sadder, her behavior, the fact that she thinks it's okay, or the fact that he accepts it?

Why do relationships like this exist? Who can honestly take your love and appreciation for each other seriously when 98% of your interactions are dysfunctional and laced with ill will? Despite judging their relationship from the outside looking in, naturally, their situation speaks for itself. He is losing friend after friend, along with the respect of those who come in contact with him and his hellacious "other half." It makes me sad to think of how he's changed, and how "stuck" he seems to be. Nobody moves until they're forced to. When something seems good, people become complacent. I don't advocate a quitter's mentality, because break-ups are not always the solution. Problems can be ironed out. But when the problems supersede any ounce of goodness in the relationship that once existed, what are you together for?

Philosophy of Kisses & Trees In The Forest.

Rihanna said "kisses don't lie," but who listens to what Rihanna has to say anymore?

Kisses used to mean something. First base wasn't a quick stop on the way to home plate; it was a destination in itself. Swapping saliva was the all-important denotation of true feelings, indicative of "love" or something like it. And then we turned fourteen.

Physical interaction these days has become depreciated. Definitions are hazy, and we tote mixed bags of perceptions on a regular basis. How jaded of Romeos and Juliets are we that a kiss no longer guarantees or means anything? Can we pull a 'Jesus' on butterflies, and resurrect those little rascals that used to flap wildly in our stomachs, at the command of a kiss? Or do we even want to? What's more important: the little things, or the bigger picture? If all roads lead to sex, why not take the shortcut and conserve gas? Have we lost all desire to take the scenic countryside route?

On another note, who are we performing for? When we adjust our actions within sexual relationships to fit within the mold society so conveniently has laid out for us, like that first day of school outfit the night before you begin the third grade, who is it for? If no one knew about what transpired between your satin sheets, would what you choose to do and not do really matter all that much? If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Translation: If you fuck someone you are attracted to, with no intentions of taking it further, and no one knew about it - did it happen?