Evidently it’s time for a breast story.

I actually didn’t have these huge knockers until my senior year of high school. It was a running joke that I was in the “flatness club” (seriously, do I have a club for everything in my life?). My high school sweat pants read “Lack There Of” referring to my lack of boobs.

Then, senior year they just blossomed. Big time.

I am now a 30DDD. Small rib cage. Giant boobs.

Being so big, they have sort of taken on a personality of their own. Hence why they have their own stories.

The first of which was an unfortunate evening where I decided to drink some Natural Ice in the Walla Walla movie theater while watching Disturbia. I returned to campus with the rest of our 30-rack and went immediately to the neighboring frat house to consume more cheap, disgusting beer. Later on, I was offered a shot, which I immediately went into the bathroom and vomited back up. That was the first time I had ever “booted and rallied.” I was a junior in college.

I returned from the bathroom, freshly mouthwashed (clever frat boys) and was offered another shot a little while later. I took it and then immediately locked eyes with a boy in the room.

I met this boy before I went to college and entered into what I call an “accidental online relationship” January of my senior year of high school. He returned for spring break in March and assumed we were romantically connected because I just happened to receive and respond to an e-mail from him every day for a couple months. I thought nothing of this. He thought it meant we were at the “kiss me hello” stage. We were not.

I immediately cleared that up after making out with him and not enjoying it (I’m gay, remember?). Then, there we were, 3 years later, wasted, in a frat house basement, post my first ever boot and rally, locking eyes from across the room.

As our eyes met, my friends notice and immediately start giving me “bad idea” looks. I ignore them and gave the boy a head nod towards the door. As we walk out, my friends are literally yelling at me to come back. I, obviously, ignored them or else this blog post would not exist.

I took him back to my room where I proceeded to not have sex with him. Not only was I a still-barely-closeted lesbian but I also was a virgin all throughout college. But, I was also really drunk so we fooled around and he slept over. I don’t remember many specifics.

I do, however, remember the morning. Oh, that morning…

He turns to me and puts his arm around me and says, “I’ve been waiting for this for a very long time.” I had a massive hangover, was not at all attracted to him and definitely wanted him to leave my room. So, I did the only rational thing I could think of (read: I had to have still been drunk) and gave him a swift HJ then made the point to immediately get up and get dressed for the day, giving him the cue to leave.

He left and I just sat on the edge of my bed. I felt terrible. Massive hangover and my whole entire body was aching from head to toe. My friends from the previous night burst into my room to check up on me, take one look at me and go “oh my, you need a drink.” So, I drank a bit and decided to take an impromptu trip to Spokane for my friend Thayer’s birthday. I figured it was the perfect day to get out of town. I was still aching all over but the morning beers helped and I was slowly getting over my repeat offense with a boy I already knew I didn’t like.

Drunkenly, on the trip to Spokane, as I sat in the passenger seat, I tried my best at coming out to my friend Julie. I attempted this by warning her I’d probably hit on Thayer’s friend, Anna. It was my first admission of liking any girl. When I arrived, the girl in question, Anna, who is now one of my best friends, looked at me and immediately asked, “Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?”

How could she tell? Was my previous night’s escapade written all over my face?

Yeah. Yeah, it was. Evidently I had blue lips. That’s right, he sucked on my lips so hard, that he had bruised them. I looked like I had been sucking on a blue lollipop all day long.

Maybe people assumed I already knew. How could I not, right? My friends who saw me earlier probably took my acknowledgment of the “you look like you need a drink” comment as validation that I did, indeed know I LOOKED like I needed a drink.

But I had no clue. I rushed to the bathroom to examine the blue and then decided to take a look at the rest of my aches and pains. My boobs were completely bruised. It was like he kneaded them like dough.

And this is how I met all of Anna and Thayer’s friends. Blue lips. Bruised breasts. In a “ew I just hooked up with a boy last night” almost-out-of-the-closet bad mood.

But I bounced back. And had a wonderful 21 run with Thayer. And I eventually came out.

I would say several lessons could be learned from this story but I’m not sure what they are. Hopefully you all got something out of it other than fun new nicknames to call me.