The ‘girls’ have received a record amount of attention this week.
And when I say ‘the girls’ of course I am referring to my bosoms…and I am not referring to Hubbster’s misguided attempts at nipple tweaking whilst I am pouring gravy on the roast (no that was NOT a euphemism) or the few minutes I spent hovering around the bust line with a pair of tweezers scanning for strays after plucking my mustache eyebrows.
No…this kind of attention is of the highest caliber as it was attracted
- from other women, and,
- whilst they were appropriately covered. (Unlike numerous nights during my misspent but do-againable youth when low cut tops and push up bras ruled my world.
After a life-time of considering myself to be less than blessed in the boobage department, my new breast-appreciation comes as something of a surprise. It all began last week, whilst in the schoolyard, sporting my new hair colour job, one of the school mums, fresh from an Intima lingerie party commented “Don’t take this the wrong way but your boobs are looking great today.” <Insert appropriate circular hand-gestured around her own bosoms for the hard of hearing and you have the general gist.>
Then, a few days later, over a breakfast date, out of the blue a friend blurted out “What is going on with your boobs today? Are you wearing chicken fillets? They are looking awesome!”
That is when I almost spat my latte in her face by accident.
You see…at the grand old age of 20, after a very embarrassing incident involving me, an extremely hot guy, a series of carefully executed drunken dance moves, and a hot sweaty silicone chicken fillet plopping out of my bra and onto the dancefloor…I vowed to give up on the artificial enhancements and instead ‘shake what my mumma gave me. ‘
Despite my fears to the contrary, it seems my lady-lumps may finally be getting the accolades they deserve! Ha!
Am I the only one with an embarrassing boob-related story?