You always hear that your body is going to change, but you never really notice it changing, only when it has.
I don’t remember my growth spurt in year 8, I just know that one day I was tall. I don’t remember getting my first chest hair, I just know now I have a hairy chest. And I don’t remember growing tits, but today I noticed, I have them.
Bitch tits. Breasts, humble mounds atop my chest, I have them.
I met this realization with a mixture of shock and humour. I shouldn’t have breasts, I am a man, but now I have them. The humour came into it because today is Sunday, and of course the day you discover you have breasts is a Sunday when you’ve already done some damage to your self esteem the night before.
I first caught glimpse of my small breasts in the reflection of a shop window. “Maybe it’s just the tight grey t shirt I am wearing” I thought. But then remembered this t shirt was bought oversize, and was never tight.
Did the changes started to happen around the time I moved to London? Could it be my diet of beer and kebabs? Could it be the combination of long hours and lack of exercise? Could it be that I’m not as young as I was, and my body just can’t handle it anymore?
No. It’s none of these things. It’s a gypsy curse.
Growing up I always knew it was dangerous to cross a gypsy. Didn’t every child learn that from their Grandparents? Well that didn’t stop me.
One day on the way home from work I popped into a Kebab shop, and made eye contact with a gypsy as I entered. She was not your common gypsy, she was young and quite pretty, but you could tell by looking into her wild eyes that she had gypsy blood.
As I ate my kebab I couldn’t help noticing the gypsy kept glancing at me, and when I finished and walked passed she spoke to me.
“Do you smoke?” she asked
I replied that I did on the odd occasion, however didn’t have any, but that’s not what she was after.
“No, I have some, would you like to join me for a cigarette?” she asked
I knew it was a bad idea and that I should be trying to put as much distance between me and the gypsy as possible, especially because I’d left all my anti gypsy rubies back in Australia, but I threw caution to the wind and went outside with her.
Her name was Bianca and she told me her story. She was in the UK to audition for The Voice, and had that very day fallen apart and not made it through to the next round. She blamed Tom Jones for this (who’s bitch tits are surely from her too). She was of many races, and a bit of a wanderer. She planned to stay in the UK to become a model, or a brain surgeon, because she informed me that she was beautiful and smart enough to do either.
She spoke at me for a good 5 minutes about how she actually didn’t have any money, and couldn’t pay for her kebab. And that’s when I knew it, she was trying to use her gypsy trickery to get a free meal.
All of my childhood learnings had taught me that at this point the only thing to do is to chop the gypsy’s head off and burn the body, however I was in public and didn’t have my sword with me. I also didn’t want to buy her kebab because I didn’t have any money either so I jumped up, mid conversation and said
“Very nice to meet you Bianca, good luck with everything” and shook her hand.
This was the moment that changed my life.
I had simultaneously wronged her, and given her the opportunity to touch my flesh and indeed curse me. And she did. As she shook my hand she looked deep into my soul, and I felt the curse pass into my body.
For the next few weeks many things happened to which I blamed the gypsy. I had a string of bad luck, a few more grey hairs, I turned 26, all of which I thought may have been the gypsy curse coming into fruition. But it wasn’t. The curse hit today when I noticed my bitch tits and knew that the curse had found its final resting place.
I tell this story because I don’t want it to happen to anybody else. Let my life be a lesson. Carry your rubies and always have your sword ready. Be prepared to burn the body in public even if you end up in jail, because at least you won’t be in jail with breasts.
And me? I’m going to embrace my bitch tits. No I won’t exercise more, or change my diet, because that’s not why I’m in this position. I’m going to turn it into a positive. I’m going to get in contact with Tom Jones and propose we do a calendar together so we can make some money off our milkshakes. I’m also going to find another gypsy to track down Bianca and vanquish her into the darkest rungs of hell and regain my flat chest.
For anyone that’s reading this who has either been cursed, or has man breasts feel free to get in contact with me, or Tom Jones. We’re here to help.
Or for more information on breaking gypsy curses, please see the below Yahoo answers for all the good it will do you. “The best way to break a gypsy curse is to stop believing in it….” What kind of idiot would take that advice.