I’m 40 years old. I don’t think about my body too much anymore unless I’m scheming on ways to get rid of organs that seem to no longer serve any useful purpose. Like ovaries, for instance.
I did notice recently that after all these years, my ass is still insanely flat. Like shriveled up dead bagel flat, and I thought, “Meh. Don’t care.” Right after I heard Big Sean and thought, “Make that MFer Hammer time.”
However, growing up and probably until I made it to my 30s, I thought a lot about my body and how I could make it more “normal” looking. You may be sympathetic to the tragedy of men/women/strangers at the club suddenly being inspired to pick me up and twirl me above their heads a la whirly bird. Maybe you will tolerate my 30-year quest for boobs.