Uppity is a nasty word, if only because it’s usually followed by an even more hateful word. One shouldn’t refer to presidential candidates or, really, anyone as such.

Still, what I wouldn’t give to be able to describe my breasts as uppity. They are not uppity, as they used to be. Not completely downity, but they used to be more uppity.

Twin pregnancy + some 25-plus years of gravity + genetics = downity breasts.

Now, uppity is supposed to mean arrogant or presumptuous. My boobs were never such; even in my teens, they were modest in their perkitude. But now they are humbled, grateful for the support of Victoria’s Secret, grateful for the icy-cold plates of a mammograph, and grateful, really, to be included in the conversation.

So call my breasts anything you like. Uppity is fine. Just don’t call them chicken.


Photo by: Bucklava, CC Licensed