I Must I Must I Must Increase My Bust

When I was in high school, I had a girlfriend who had a ditty she would use as she performed isometric exercises. I'm not naming any names (but she knows who she is).

"I must. I must. I must increase my bust," she would chant as she pressed her palms together in front of her chest — or as she performed push-ups in a standing position against her parents' living room wall.

In case you're wondering, the exercises didn't work.

WHAT I SAW TODAY JUST BEFORE I SAW SOME NEW BREASTS.

Today, I went for a walk to Benalmádena. Quick pace. Beautiful sunshine. Great exercise. On my way back, as I neared one of the workout stations along the beach, I noticed a mature blonde doing the same exercise I remembered my girlfriend doing in high school. However, unlike my former girlfriend, the blonde was topless and clearly had no need to increase anything. In fact, it was pretty clear her "bust" had been increased significantly by other means.

ONE OF SEVERAL EXERCISE STATIONS ALONG THE BEACH.

Unlike in Las Vegas and Southern California, I don't see a lot of cosmetic surgery around here. It's here, but it's not typical (or at least not so obvious). So it's unusual for me to see silicone breasts out and about. And these breasts were especially out and about. The exercise equipment is right along the paseo, and the blonde performed her exercises with her very large, unnaturally upright, and strangely solid breasts facing out proudly to the passers-by.

THE BREAST STATION?

Another topless woman about 50 feet away on the beach sat comparing her own large breasts to these new models on display. She placed her hands beneath her full, gravity drawn, breasts and lifted. Significantly. She compared the results and then let them drop. Heavily. She finally threw up her hands dramatically and laughed.

I really wanted to take a picture. I also wanted to tell the blonde those exercises were not only ineffective but also, in her case, totally pointless. But then she already knew that. She clearly just liked showing them off. Good for her.

THE HORIZONTAL BARS ARE APPARENTLY BEST ... IF ONLY FOR FULL EXPOSURE.

And speaking of show-offs: As I continued my walk, a guy passed heading in the opposite direction. He wore nothing but a pair of hot-yellow running shoes and day-glo orange nylon running shorts.

Unbelievably short and skimpy day-glo orange nylon running shorts.

With, very obviously, no built-in support — and clearly no underwear or jock to compensate for the lack of built-in support — the guy's shorts left absolutely nothing to the imagination (and I mean nothing). OK, he wasn't bad to look at but all I could think as he jounced ... I mean jogged ... by was, "After a while, that has got to hurt." He was also blond. But I'm pretty sure his parts were real. I probably should have back-tracked to see if he also took a crack at the horizontal bars.

So, in all, it was an excellent, invigorating, and entertaining walk. But in my cotton shorts and supportive underwear — with my T-shirt hooked into my waistband — I felt seriously over-dressed.

ALMOST HOME. MAYBE IT"S JUST ME...