Karen was determined it would be her daughter Kristi. She had not groomed the perky blonde for the last 18 years, just so she could watch her come in ...econd or third place.The evening's activities came to a close and Karen stood up. She knew tomorrow would be the deciding factor. The three day event was over Sunday morning and she would be sure that her daughter wore the crown no matter what she had to do in order to guarantee it.Kristi smiled down at the crowd and gazed with stars in her eyes. I asked her how large they were and was told they were 36C. I asked about the scarring around her areola and was told she had breast reduction surgery years ago to reduce then from an H-sized cup to their present size. She had been a 34 H at the time and the pair were hurting her back- so she had them down-sized. Crap, I would have loved to have seen them! They looked larger than C cups.So, here I was chatting on the phone with a woman who was showing me her boobs on her web cam. I wanted. ’ ‘Helen, can I ask you something?’ his upbeat tone took her by surprise. ‘Sure Vinnie, what is it?’ ‘Do you pump your own gas, have you learned how?’ ‘Well yes, as a matter of fact I do,’ she said amused. ‘What would make you ask me such a question? I’d really like to know how your mind works.’ Her remark did not faze him. ‘I was just thinking about the time we were sitting in a gas line, back in 1978. You remember? That summer Jack and I carpooled to conserve gas.’ ‘Of course I remember. That. Taking out the orange juice and pouring a tall cold glass, then finally adding a sleeve of crackers on a separate dish. Carefully, I make my way down the hallway, not wanting to spill a drop. *Aaaaahhchhhhooo!* ‘Bless you’ I call towards the bedroom. Nudging the door with my knee. As it swings open, I gaze upon her. Crumpled balls of Kleenex litter the floor and the comforter. Her hair is up in a bun, countless loose strands splayed wildly, matted in some places. Her eyes, half open, are.