Bitch moan gripe whinge carp whine grouse

I am so easily distracted ... I went in search of a few additional synonyms and wasted 10 whole, entire minutes of my life on the origins and variations of the name Katherine (having discovered that among the many nearly useless appendices at the back of my dictionary there is one on the subject of names).

I'm at home, alone (the infant is asleep) and if I thought I could get away with watching the entire thing uninterupted I'd put a film on. There are many more annoying things to me than having my viewing pleasure interrupted by his inane drunken witterings, except when he's interrupting my viewing pleasure with his inane drunken witterings.

So instead I'm thinking about stupid things like the fact that when I was in my twenties if a dropped a stone and a half in weight my tits would just about vanish. I'm sure I remember owning [and what's more to the points properly fitting into] a size 34B and wondering if I shouldn't move down to an A. If I put on a bit of weight they might expand to fit a 34C.

Last year when my weight ballooned I got up to a 36D. Phew. Now my weight's back down to 34B/C levels but my tits still require a D cup. It isn't as though they jut out like twin early warning signs that the rest of me is about to arrive. They've just spread. I know someone else who's been contemplating perkings up and now I am ... at least then they'll be in proportion.