“Bosom” is one of those words I want to bring back, mostly because I think it’s funny, but also because it’s often more descriptive than “chest” and more demure than “boobs,” and sometimes you’re not talking about actual CLEAVAGE. As I slowly morph into the Dowager Countess that I’ve always been deep inside, I plan to bring back “bosom” completely, along with a habit of saying very cutting things to men I believe to be stupid whilst dining, wondering how weekends work, consistently narrowly avoiding falling off rolling office chairs, and living much MUCH MUCH longer than makes any reasonable sense. And as a Dowager Countess, I ASSURE YOU that I just looked at this outfit through a lorgnette, made an incredibly disapproving HMMMMMPH sound, and then tutted off into the garden to do something more useful, like help a young woman secret her love child with a kind German family in peace.
