My life is over.
I had decided never to emerge from underneath my duvet again, and my plan was working perfectly until my mum came barging into my room -which STILL doesn’t have a lock on it, despite all my requests, because Mum seems to think she has the right to just barrel on in and invade my privacy whenever she likes.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” she said with a sign, yanking the duvet off me.
There was a worrying slither and plopping sound. My left boob felt worryingly light.
I looked down at Mike’s plate. There appeared to be two chicken breasts. One a lot more silicone-y than the other.
There was deathly silence.
Everyone was staring at me. Or more specifically my left boob. Or sudden lack thereof.
This was definitely the first time this many people had noticed my boobs and contrary to my expectations I was not enjoying it.
My chicken filet ex-boob-enhancer slithered down slightly into Mike’s gravy.
‘OH MY GOD, IT’S A BOOBIE!’ he screamed.