As promised, you filthy animals, here's a post about my breasts. Stop licking your chops. You look disgusting.
Well, as some of you know, if you've visited my other blog, I've been complaining a lot about the current weather in New York. In fact, it's all I've been talking about for the last three days. It's hot. scorchingly, punishingly hot, man. Sweatier and more foultastic than the space under a homeless guy's balls. For real, yo. It's fucking nasty.
And every time another June rolls around and I find that I'm still residing here in Queens, I cock my eyebrow skyward and wonder to the (good?) lord above how the fuck I've managed not to escape in time for another sweltering New York summer. (That is, after I finish giving my own ass a brutal whipping with an electrical cord). I mean, summertime in NYC is the ninth circle of hell. It's horrid. Dig?
But enough about that. Let's talk about my tits.
I was thinking about them today because, when it's this hot outside, I cannot possibly stand to wear a bra. A brassiere on me in the summertime reminds me of those bits they used to make the talking horses wear in old movies and TV shows. I think they were made of razor wire and itching powder. Or something like that. Anyway, you get my point. Think Hannibal Lechter and that thing they put on his face. Come on, keep up. I'm getting to the boobs part.
So, yeah. I don't wear a bra in the summer, most of the time. And this really doesn't matter much at all, because I have very small breasts. They are fabulous, mind you. Ask anyone. But, still. Small. Small as hell.
A male friend of mine just started dating a small-breasted woman and remarked the other day, with a generous amount of disbelief, "They are even smaller than yours!"
I remember when I first discovered I was growing breasts, at the tender age of 12 or so. I looked down and noticed that the area that was previously indistinguishable from my stomach (both were soft and kind of mushy ...I wasn't an athletic child) was suddenly budding out in the most pleasing and adorable way. I was thrilled. Every day I woke up and checked to see if they'd gotten any bigger. My mom and I bought my first little bra at Sears. And I waited and waited for the big, fleshy knockers to come.
That was 22 years ago.
Those goddamned boobs never, ever came.
My sister got all the mammary endowment in the family. I remember hating her for that...she woke up one day and looked like a goddamned porn star. She was blessed with the golden, enviable traits of our Italian heritage: tanned skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, and boobs. I was prone to sunburns, loved pasta, didn't need a bra and probably could have started shaving my legs at the age of 6.
But I digress. This cloud does have a silver lining, my friends. I promise you.
So here I am today. I'm walking to the Rite Aid to buy some sunscreen and feminine hygiene products, and I catch my reflection in the window of a bank as I'm dragging my hot ass across the street (and boy, is it a hot ass. My sister might've gotten the boobs, but I got the butt. Yay, god!). I am wearing a tank top made of the flimsiest cotton imaginable. Any other woman would get hauled into the clink for indecent exposure if she dared venture outdoors in that shirt braless. But not me. See, I've got these magical, fairy-sized boobs, y'all. I can get away with anything.
After 35 years on this tired planet, after birthing a child and giving her unbridaled access to my breasts as feedbags for over two consecutive years, these boobs of mine are still kick ass. Small, yes. But not saggy or wrinkly or covered in stretch marks. No way, man. Not even.
They are still bouncy. I'd even call them pristine.
So, as I write this, the first New York heat wave of 2008 is about to break with the approach of what looks to be a violent thunderstorm. I'd better publish this before a bolt of lightning comes in through my window and kills me. It would be a waste not to share this story of triumph over adversity with you all.
I am a survivor. And if I can't inspire you all with tales of what I've overcome, then what good am I?
The Blizzard of '17
4 days ago