Flapjacks.

My mother just called me — at work, no less — to inform me that she has gone up a bra size. She now wears a 48D. She is 5 feet tall, on her tippy toes, with hair fully-teased. Let’s all close our eyes and visualize this for a moment. Physics alone would dictate that this is a woman who, by all accounts, should not be able to stand up straight. A human Weeble-Wobble, if you will. Hold the syrup, Flo. The maternal flapjacks no longer qualify as a short-stack.