My boobs have gone into overdrive in the last week. Since Monday, they’ve grown about a cup size, and they’re killing me. Not that I’m complaining. They look great. So great that I’ve had to institute a policy of “look but don’t touch” for my husband, who can’t get enough of them.
How’s this for offensive? “Jesus Is My Prozac” I was test driving my husband’s new truck when I saw that absurd statement on a sign in front of a church in Fredericksburg, VA, and I nearly ran off the road I was so aghast that anyone could possibly be so ignorant as to suggest that depression can be cured by… Read more »
