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I take great care to preserve the miraculous padding.

I hand wash them with gentle detergent, massage the cushioning to maintain their shape, and lay them on a foldout rack to dry.

Earlier in the evening when I tipped back a martini with extra olives, his eyes locked on my falsified feminine pillows. The moon, like my heart, is almost full, but never quite. When I first moved to Hollywood, I dated a TV showrunner. I had taken his advice and gone to Victoria’s Secret to face down my insecurity over lingerie.

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” Before I could reply, she’d gone and come back with one in leopard print, the other a sultry shade of lavender.

The dress wasn’t my fault; the stuffing wasn’t my fault. When a slow song came on, a cute boy named Marlon asked me to dance.

We swayed as one that night, but when Marlon made eyes at me the next day, without my toilet tissue titties, I didn’t think he’d really be interested.

My stepmother, who had large D-size peaches and an apple behind, took me shopping.

I hoped that by some miracle of lighting or by finding the right dress my body would become more like hers, but the dressing room mirrors magnified my bony, flat body from all angles. Where the cleavage should be framed, my ta-tas like tadpoles swam laps and poked their heads out for air.

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