Completely random post about breasts.

I have never had big breasts. Well, except for about 2 months after the birth of my first daughter, but that’s another story completely.

My breasts aren’t small. They’re, well, average...I guess. My sisters all got the big boobs in the family. But that's okay, I got the brains. *heehee, it's okay, they don't read this blog*

Okay, my point? I don’t have that jaw-dropping, male drool-inducing cleavage that is often the desire of men and women alike and has made plastic surgeons a fortune.

Yesterday, thanks to a good bra and a tight tank top, voila! Cleavage. Still not the jaw-dropping, male drool-inducing variety, but hey you work with what you've got. Now you have to understand, I'm rather... conservative.(Says the erotic romance writer.) I usually don't do low cut shirts. Usually. But I was working the cleavage.

That night I sat down with my kids to watch a movie and I kept dropping popcorn down my top and having to fish it out. Which was kind of embarrassing but also made me think. I don't usually drop that much popcorn. I mean I can be clumsy, but I'm pretty proficient at getting food to my mouth.

So what was different? Well, I normally don't have a reservoir in which to catch my errant food, that's one. And then I remembered the last time I'd worn the good bra tight shirt combo, a lady bug flew down my shirt -- Yeah, try to get a ladybug out of your cleavage -- something that has never happened to me on un-cleavage days.

So, I've come to a conclusion. Through some trick of science, cleavage has gravity.

Think about it. Where do men’s gazes eventually settle? Drawn in like a magnet... or gravity?

Where is one of the first places male hands roam?

Why else would stray insects and exploded corn find it’s way down my top?

Say what you like, I think cleavage has it's own gravitational pull.