Breast Envy

This is a tale a few summers old.

In our growing up years, I was very close to a cousin. We were inseperable friends, our blood forged bonds thicker than water as the saying goes [or something to that effect]. Anyhow, as the years went by we grew older and the cousin got himself a girlfriend. He started spending a lot of time with the interloper while yours truly was left in the lurch.
Obviously miffed at the turn of events, I confronted him about this. "Why do you spend so much time with that girl? What has she got that I don't?", I asked.
"Tits", he replied.
His monosyllabic reply had the taste of bitter truth to it. The next time she visited, I stared at her breasts longingly, envious. The dirty look she flashed at me seemed to say, "These are mine! Get your own, you flat-chested loser." Only in my later years would I realise what her dirty look actually meant.
So there you have it, Freud. You spoke so much about Penis Envy, but you did not live long enough to see a documented case of the opposite, Breast Envy. If only you had lived a few decades longer, I would have offered myself for psychoanalysis.