Now you can test drive faux funbags for four and twenty hours.


Setting your chest up with a set of fake knockers is a big decision.

You’ve gotta be sure that the cosmic overlords skipped over you at the company party when they were handing out ample bits of adipose cake to put in your cups. Then, once you’re disgruntled enough with what you’ve got (or not gotten), you’re willing to come in there armed and murder everything between your arms. You welcome it. Thus, you take the under knife plunge toward plunging necklines which are about to look devastating on you. That is, after a painful few weeks of barely being able to move. #worthit

But now, there’s a whole new option between “cutlets” and “cut them!”.

As you deliberate, you can test drive some big boobs of your own. It’s not padding or inserts, either. This is a procedure – but it’s temporary. Because what aesthetic science has come up with is a 24 hour long saline infusion for you to try on.

When you get the f’real thing, you have the option of Dr. Nip Tuck filling your titty trick or treat bags up with saline or silicone. Saline’s said to be a safer thing because the body just absorbs it when you pop it pulling a dumb bish act like belly flopping into the pool at Diddy’s white party ‘cause you got too drunk (did that sound like a personal anecdote? I hope so.) Silicone, on the other hand looks and feels more real – but I guess the idea is that it’s not as easily diffusible, can create a pileup in your circulatory traffic, and you can get dead that way. Not terribly common, but more possible. So, that’s why I suppose they inject with saline for this procedure. So you don’t, ya know, get dead. Those points alone are big enough decisions to have to make when looking at a boob augmentation. On top of that, another decision you have to make is – will I like the way it looks on me? Or the way it feels? The attention I get? The way clothes fit?

And the overlooked one:

Will I know how to use them?

“With great power comes great responsibility…”

This is where the twenty-four hour funbag experience comes in.

For around a third the cost of a f’real boob job:


And now, for A-pants armchair remarks:

1. What a waste for one day. Why not just put that money toward the real thing?

2. Only one kinda person uses a fake name when they’re still showing their face on T.V.

3. Does she remind anyone else of that mean girl you always see in Tyler Perry’s movies?

4. Wow, I’m judgey today. Someone needs a hug. Just watch out for the faux twins, please.

In the end, I suppose what every chick has to remember is that whatever brand of body mod you do, your torpedoes and everything else aren’t magic bullets. Whether they’re today-temporary or twenty year temporary, that shiz ain’t gonna last forever. And it’s def not going to give you Megan Fox’s or Kate Upton’s everything-else either. So you’ll want something in place when your assets fade so that everyone will keep on loving and admiring and being charmed by you. Just something to ponder while you’re laid up in bed, recovering.

Or don’t.

Just watch Netflix marathons, yell at your caretaker, and turn into a big tittied shrew.

That way more people can focus on adoring me instead.


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