The Matron doesn't just get dressed in the morning.
She snaps on the heavy artillery.
Now, the padded bra has changed her life. She went from appearing a washboard with two nipples attached to a woman with actual female breasts. Men routinely now tell her she looks 'fit.' Try fitted, darlings.
While picking up her offspring at the elementary school today, the Matron ran into a dear friend who was working her assets. Cleavage. And this mama was hot!
But wait. Merrick gave the Matron pause. He seemed to have undue fascination with the forementioned chest, his little head a tennis ball, back and forth, between the Matron and Hot Mama. He was not reading lips or otherwise following the conversation.
Could her kindergartener also be a breast man? Already?!
The Matron waved good-bye to her friend -- and while walking to the van was thus enlightened by Merrick (w = r in his world which makes it cuter).
Merrick: "How come hews move?"
Matron: "What? Whose what?"
Merrick: "How come hew nuwsews move? I didn't know they could move! Youws don't, do they?"
No, honey, your Mama's nursers (as the very young in her household call them) don't move. But real ones do.
Sigh. Just wait till y'all hear about how the Matronly uterus is now sitting atop of her bladder. Remember those bladder infections? Weren't. That's right, folks. Small surgery in store next summer and the Matronly apparati are literally, headed all down hill and artificial!
Puts being "a piece of work" into a whole new context.