News you can use – meet Rachel Aldana – from the UK Sun:
Petite Rachel, 24, who won the title in 2007 with her 30J chest, said her breasts have now ballooned to a whopping 30L.
She added: “I dread to think what they will become.
“Sometimes I feel like a walking pair of boobs. They are all anyone can see.
“I’m worried eventually I won’t be able to walk or even stand.”
I just can’t bring myself to post the graphic detail of these massive mammaries. I’ll post a few of the tamer pics but luckily, the lovely and buxom Miss Aldana, like all modern shameless self-promoters, has a webside where you may observe and worship her majestic bazoongas – which you may also join for a simple fee of £19.95 a month (that’s $31.52 in good old American samolians) should you want to watch the chronicles of our chestily challenged angel as she suffers the rigors of busty life on Planet Earth. Should you simply be curious and not invested in the long term story of this mammalian goddess and just want a larger (and free) sample of the somewhat imbalanced Miss Aldana, simply go here but be ye warned, it isn’t for the faint of heart!
I’m not a fan of big boobs (kind of explains my opposition to Obama).
In high school, there is always this one guy who is looked upon as some sort of sex guru, even though it is highly likely that he had never even seen a naked female body outside of his older brother’s June 1965 copy of Playboy magazine… In 1973 at W.P. Daniel High School in New Albany, Mississippi, ours was a guy named Darrell Chism.
Darrell was a slightly downmarket redneck Lothario but was rumored to be the suavest (and most successful) guy at the area beer joints and pool halls. Wearing his studded, bell bottom Wrangler jeans, Levis jean jacket, plaid short sleeved western shirt with the fake rhinestone snaps instead of buttons, topped (or bottomed) off with classic “dingo” boots – the fashion forward footwear of the age – Darrell was the epitome of redneck sartorial splendor. Driving his 1968 Ford pickup with gun racks (holding a .22 rifle and a single shot .410 shotgun) and with the requisite Confederate battle flag in the back window, Darrell was as close to James Bond as the late seventies, rural north Mississippi underage cheap beer swilling set could muster.
In reality, the talent that young Darrell was pulling was somewhat less attractive than the lovely Rachel. There might have even been a couple of 40+ divorcee’s in the mix that, in cowboy lingo, looked as though they had been ridden hard and put up wet. A missing tooth here or there was apparently no serious impediment for our intrepid Romeo. There also existed the possibility that our nubile young cowboy Casanova had spent some time at the Union County Health Department getting his ass punctured with shots of penicillin and picking up prescriptions for Erythromycin – but hey, he was getting laid – or so the rumors were at the time.
Thankfully, even though Darrell’s intimate partner selection process was perhaps suspect, to his acolytes of freshly minted teenagers he was also a wunderkind, an intellectual, a sort of a rural philosopher-king and pseudo cowboy poet, a veritable Mississippi Renaissance man clad in denim on denim.
As a testament to this man, this legend, this hero of raging teenage hormones, some 40 years on I still subscribe to his philosophy and teachings with regards the female breast. Darrell, in his infinite and universal wisdom is quoted as saying of the said pleasurable area of the female anatomy:
More than a mouthful is a waste.
Hear, hear, Mr. Chism! Wisdom this significant is immortal. We all benefit from the clarity of your words of unique and transcendent wisdom.
Heed, ye unwashed, and marvel in the magnificence of the unvarnished and indisputable Truth.