ShadeThrowingAt: “Holiday” Body Mods


Ah, boobs. The earrings of the rib cage.

They’re glorious to behold and to hold and that’s why everyone wants them.

Even when they’re not real, they spectacular.

This, I suppose, is why the still-new test drive boobies beta version is already being researched and improved upon by other medical professionals. Within the next two years, they’ll be able to sell temp titties to chicks who “just wanna see how it feels” for three to four times what the current surgery’s offering with zero recovery time. And when I see the types of repeat customers purchasing the current service (the shorter lasting one), it leads me to wonder: how much of it is about lower cost or being fickle? If they keep coming back, they obviously don’t hate the extra weight. And they clearly can afford it (probably spending more by than the real deal by coming back).

But convex chestedness won’t be the only thing coming outta this.

It’s said that this same technique can be applied for dudes who want bigger looking…pecs.

And calves. Despite the phallic facts that have us all saying “yeah, right; we know what they’re gonna use it for”, I also don’t get how these would work for any of that anyway. Because boobs aren’t muscle – so I’m imagining Popeye coming down off his spinach binge, with fleshy adipose batwings where his bulging biceps were moments before. Or, after this week’s spectacle, I can imagine some other popular requests (in a couple years when this is finally ready) that may alter surgical priorities in general:

“I should have gotten the Kardassian butt cutlets instead of wasting money on Lasik”
“Well, like they say, hind sight is 20/20”

And why’s it gonna take two years? Because it’s still in its pioneer stages and thus still carries the risk for things like hematomas and getting dead of blood clots and the like (although I feel like that wouldn’t stop a good portion of the population any more than a 13 year old girl getting tatted by a 20 year old who used Jack Daniels as a cleaning agent). So they hafta perfect it yet.

Still, I dunno about these vacation augmentations – be they boobs, butts, or whatev.

’cause something about it just feels too “henna tattoo” to me. The first thing I dislike about it (on a personal level) is that I never do well with vacations because the nature of them is to eventually end. I don’t even like taking a weekend off from work because going back to non-laziness feels like such a punishment that I take it personally and take half a day to get back into work mode. So with almost-but-not-quite body mods, it’s the same deal. And what will I do when I meet Prince Charming? And he falls in love with my new butt-face-nose-boobs? And then in a month we’re just pillow talking when suddenly my whole body liquefies, combusts, and then fountains from the sheets like Cinderella at midnight-mare on Elm Street?

On the judgmental front, I guess I’m also throwing a bit of shade because I feel like people are just into the intermediate tweaks because they don’t wanna do all the prep work and difficult recovery of actual surgery. I can understand that fickle feeling leading to the test-drive three or four day version. That’s some Spock ass logic (if you’ve got the means to do both the week-lease and the permanent tweaks later). But if I really feel like I got cosmically cosmetically slighted, and I’m feeling that every day I wake up and look in the mirror, then I’m either gonna go for the real thing or a cheaper sticker-version of the beauty illusions. Like contoured makeup.

Or boosty-bras.


(Why are these even legal?
Never. Not even once.
In fact, that’s the rule now:
Like crack, never put your butt crack in this.)

As awful as some of the ghetto purty versions are, most of them are better than this upcoming thing you’d have to do a monthly tune up at some medical saline pump to maintain. Which I’d only do if I was too much of a pussy to rip my body apart and endure the suffering that every disgusting caterpillar has to do to morph into a beautiful butterfly. Nay, sir. I dunnit once. I’ll do it again. Like an internally bleeding boss. But these bishes are no better than those kids who wanted to be in our gang in middle school and skip over the “initiation”. Psshha. Keep moving.

So today’s shade throwing is dedicated to the up and coming generation of vacation

You ain’t bout dat life.

Call me when you’ve taken a knife.

Then you can be in our gang.

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.


36 plastic surgeries do not a barbie make


Fake cans can be fun.

(Actually, my mammaraydar says Salma’s were real here.)

But if you do opt for pricey body work to look more like a Barbie doll – then what’s the point in adorning the top of your rib cage with two snack baggies filled full’a salt water… if you can’t even enjoy them? If you go super-big, can you really enjoy life without wondering whether you’ll crush your lungs as you slumber? Or pop ’em during a massage? Granted, triple L sized boobs could probably help you survive in the event of a water landing – but I’d imagine they’d make for a pretty back breaking day-to-day. Is it weird that the professional titty slicers even let people take it this far?

Maybe the MILFAGS (Mom I’d Like To Find A Good Shrink) below can explain to me what’s up since her cup conundrum has put her in the hole a quarter mill.

This poor lost soul and mother of six just underwent her 36th cosmetic procedure – and she won’t stop till she looks like Barbie. Alright. I’ll bite.

But, like, which Barbie is it she’s trying to mimic?


Bless her compressed little heart.

I’m being reminded of when I sit to draw a person and it begins to look like a Picasso because I get frustrated and keep screwing with it and getting all the scaling off and smearing all the lines. Except – tragically – when it’s body mods instead of Strathmore and charcoal, you’ve gotta rock it for public display. No real lady looks like Barbie, darling. Some girls come quasi-close in their early 20’s. And the chicks who do more nearly share her measurements are usually fashion models who just look like hungry cartoonish aliens so starved that in a few years, they resemble an uncircumcised dong in repose with ill fitting silicone balloons reluctantly hanging on in perilous proximity above their recent c-section scar.

Barbie’s not an idol to emulate.

She’s a non-sentient disproportionate doll.

But homegirl won’t hear any of it. She keeps upgrading dem titties more often than my iphone wants me to upgrade to whatever latest NSA-ware app is out.


Ah, yes. I fully recognize and relate to this brand of body dysmorphia.

As a kid, it was thinking red lipstick would make me No Doubt’s front woman. Even now – it manifests in mirror hating up until I step on the scale or slink into a pair of loose fitting jeans and realize I’ve lost five pounds that week. Then I realize how ridiculous that all is – from my skewed self-image to my worth-barometer being based on some Platonic ideal about the mathematics of aesthetics.

Being aware of it is def a step in the right direction – but I’d be lying if I said that with a more abundant bank account I’d not have siphoned out large sums by now for surgical tweaks of my own, based off adolescent hangups I’m still not over. And whether we’re cutting ourselves tearfully albeit gently with a razor in a tub or having the doc do it for us while we take a drug induced nap – self-sabotage as self-esteem fuel is totes our right, right?



But is our right – as a patient – really the question to ask?

A plastic surgeon’s warnings are for good reason. And successive or extreme surgeries that might threaten your life could destroy his own as well. There are some surgeons who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about vacuuming your ass fat – even when he knows you’ve had an effing heart replacement. But that’s when it gets to that super underhanded contra-indication immoral level. There’s still several levels of still-legal-but-wrong preceding that kind of unprofesh behavior.

The point here is that yes – whether it’s a woman, dude, or genital free celestial being like the dudes in Dogma – we should be allowed to elect which surgeries we want done.

(Props to Snape for bringing the tale back to Mattel.)

That said, in the quest to look like Ken’s life partner – there should also be a guard dog at the scalpel end saying which variety of surgeries they’ll perform and which they won’t – based on ethics. Ya know, kind of like that whole oath they took (which similar to all the religions that get preached but not followed – is naught but dogma of its own). That way a patient won’t end up asphyxiated by tit flesh in the night. Well, that hasn’t happened to this bish yet, but she has said she can’t use the front stove burners – due to danger of funbag fire.

I’d like to close with a few questions:

1: HTF is she putting six kids through school?

2: Were there actually seven of them- and one suffocated during breastfeeding?

3: I want to know which barbie all these bitches be bringing into Dr. LookGood.

4: There is no 4 – but until I get an answer to 3, I’m going to assume the Barbie was barbecued.