Hi ! My name’s “Bubbles.” Glad to meet you! And welcome to my authorized, unexpurgitated autoblog-iography! It’s the amazing, all-true story of me, as brilliantly authorized by its brilliant author — whom is none other than my own humble, yet likeable, self.
My real, true name is Cyndi? But I got dubbed ‘Bubbles’ as a young girl ‘cause I always used to chew bubblegum and blow bubbles. Then as years passed, and I deflowered into the full blosom of womanhood (golly, I’m not kidding! I’m a walking exhibition of what healthy nutrition can produce) somehow the nickname stuck… and so did the gum.
I mean, I still go through a pack of Bazooka a day, or six pieces of Dubble-Bubble? (Pink ones only.) I guess ya’ could say I’m a chain-chewer. I like the rush of all-natural bubblegum flavor when ya’ first pop it in your mouth, and how ya’ can keep chewin’ all day!
(You’re probably thinking: put this girl on gum commercials, hunh?)
But recently I been trying to cut back, ‘cause my doctor, Dr. Nancy, says that habitchewary chromic gum chewiage is not healthy for a girl? Especially when ya’ do it most of the time? But it’s like so hard to quit! So I’m trying to find a way to “ease off.”
My new plan is to switch to nicotine gum first, and then to smoking. That’ll help me ‘kick the habit.’ Dr. Nancy will be so proud!
Oh! I forgot to tell ya’: Dr. Nancy’s full name is Dr. Nancy Mills. She’s this friendly, woman doctor with real small tits? I first started seeing Dr. Nancy a few years ago at the Student Health Clinic, at this small, literal arts college where – can ya’ believe it? — I was a boner-ride college student! (boner-fied? boner-eyed? Golly, French is like ‘all Greek to me’!)
Anyways, that’s where Dr. Nancy first subscribed birth control pills for me. In fact – Dr Nancy is so nice! — when I first saw her, during my first freshman year, for my first anal mammatory physical (meaning: my first, once-a-year, required bodacious checkup?), I just strolled in the Health Clinic (“la la-la la-la !”) and Dr. Nancy looked at me for about one second, saw how I (and my body?) moved, and then she gave me a whole carton of pills, like totally for free!
There were lotsa pills in that box, like a double-wide buttload. And they were real cute, the way they were packed? Little pink and white pills, each one in a cunning, little clear-plastic bubble, with all the bubbles all stuck on these cards – silver on their rears? — and the cards all lined up in a pastel-pink box of elegant cardboard with a convenient carrying-handle so you could carry it.
I was like: “Holy kamolie, Dr Nancy! Is all this for me?”
And Dr. N. was like: “Yes, Cynthia. These pills are important. You should take one every day. And for God’s sake, I don’t care where you go, I don’t care what happens to you — don’t ever miss a day until you are safely married.”
But I was distracted, at that point? ‘Cause Dr. N. was bending over me, to examine me with her stealthaloscope? And I was just sitting there, up on the paper, with my broadly feminine rear gracefully pressed on the paper, in Dr. N.’s exclamination room? But from where a girl was sitting one couldn’t help looking down Dr. Nancy’s dress. (This was almost unavoidable, even if one was trying not to look.) (Which I admit that I wasn’t not doing?)
“Just pop one dose from the blister-pack every morning, and take it,” she said, pointing at the card I was holding. “Each row corresponds to one week. Be sure to take them sequentially, row by row, until you get through the whole blister-pack, in 28 days, which corresponds to one menstrual cycle. You’ll see that, for five days at the end of each cycle, you take pink pills, not the usual white ones. It is important to take them all, in order. Then you start up a new blister-pack. Okay, Cynthia? Cyndi? … Hey — Bubbles!”
I stopped chewing in mid-gum-chew and looked up at her face. “Yes, Bubbles, pay attention! I was talking about the pills, Bubbles — the pills! DO… YOU… UNDERSTAND?”
I nodded as if I knew what she’d been blatherin’ about? But, what I was thinking was: “poor Dr. N.!” ‘Cause all she had were two little “bullets” down there!
I mean, that was the scrawniest pair of hooters moi had ever seen, assuming one can even use the term ‘hooters’! Golly! We’re talking zippo, boobywise! Her bra size musta been “32 zilch-minus, below zero.”
It was soooooo sad! There was nothing for Dr. N.’s boyfriends to enjoy down there. Like, if that prim, young, brunette doctor even had any guys after her! Golly, there were no letters in the human alfabet small enough to indicate her cupsize.
Poor Dr. Nancy! It was sad ‘cause she was otherwise pretty pretty? So it made me sad.
That is why, ever since my first freshman year, I been looking for ways to help Dr. “Flat-Nancy” kick-start her tragically disproportionary ta-tas! Like, better late than never? I’ll tell ya’ more about that gargantuan effort and its surprising results later.
But for now, why don’t you write back and let me know if you want me to keep telling my story? Cause, I’m a new blogger! I need encouragement, you guys!!!
Also, tell me what ya want me to talk about? I want this blog to be real fun for you. So tell me what you like! (Tee-hee!)