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Plastic surgery always makes me think of Thanksgiving turkeys. In fact, I'd bet a cosmetic procedure is practically identical to that of turkey preparation. I mean, in both scenarios, the subject (the turkey/girl) is sliced, diced, cut, carved, slashed, and gutted with sharp utensils and then stuffed with foreign objects. Granted, the turkey will probably be mutilated by your Aunt Agnes wearing a Christmas sweater and a fanny pack, whereas the woman will dish out a few grand to be mutilated by an uncertified lab-coat wearing nurse's assistant who will tell you "its normal, you have nothing to worry about" when you complain that your tits have turned a yellowish green color and fallen off.
But. yeah. other than that though, its basically the same.
And while being able to fill out that hot pink halter top you saw in Abercrombie will cost a pretty penny, and certainly may leave you permantly disfigured, its totally worth it, as you will reap the endless benefits of doing so:
1.) The most obvious one is simple: you will have gigantic knockers. You will now be known as "so-and-so with the big puppies" and your fuckable rate will be inceased by a whole 5 points. They will be the convo starters in every social gathering you find yourself in from then on, causing you to come up with clever nicknames for your new friends as party-lines (Laverne & Shirley, Peanut Butter & Jelly, Mary-Kate and Ashley etc.) that will just crack the guys up. OR, if you have a particularly low I.Q, and one-liners like these prove to be too challenging, you dont have to talk at all. You can do something as simple as, oh, wear a tank top. As your male conterpart will be so entranced with the XXX beach balls two centimeters from his face, no conversation will really be necessary.
2.) If you should be brutally murdered by a random sociopath, buried four feet underground in some abandoned forest in Wyoming, and are found by hikers ten years later, but cant be identified because your body is so decomposed, they identify it by tracing the serial number in the silicone. Trust me. It's happened.
3.) Besides those already mentioned, fake knockers offer an extra perk that boring ol' natural ones don't: you always have a large, inexplicable space between each one. This offers a nice little storage compartment, to fit items such as cell-phones, I-pods, and wallets, keys, whatever! Now thats what I call a built-in closet!
4.) Fights will be relatively easy to win, or at least to bear, with your new assets in place. When, say, the bitch down the street gets testy and declares a catfight, or your husband is undergoing "work-related stress" and decides to rough you up to relieve it--a blow to the chest (wherein most girls would hurt like a mother) will be virtually pain-free for you. Once you've had them for a while and they begin to form their rock-life structure, any boob-bopping will feel like punching a brick wall with your bare hands. You will bloody knuckles! You will make grown men cry! Arnold Schwarzenegger will step down and deem you the "Tit-a-nator".
And you, after getting this taste of bliss from the hands of your surgeon, will definetly be bauk .
