Dearest Side Boob, how can I count the ways? How can I count the ways in which you alternately make me laugh, bitterly, at my image in the mirror and weep in wretched despair. What a cruel joke to have the large breasts so many women crave yet have them marred because they do not…
Tag Archive: boobs
“Say It With Yo’ Chest!”
Confucius said, “It is a secure man who wears the bra of his wife on his head.” Or maybe it was me who said that. Whatever. Just know that someone really, really wise and smart said that. It was me. I have big boobs. I get it, men. Some of you might think, “HELLZ YEAH,…
For the Love of Boobs
Recently the toddler, my husband and I were gathered in the toddler’s bed having a pre-sleep chat. As you do. Without warning the newly minted two year old, who had been calmly snuggled against me, shoved his hand down my shirt and began to caress my chest. “I like the booboos,” he explained to me.
Five Letters To Strangers In Retail
Dear dude with the wandering eyes in the food court, There are at least 47 other boobs for you to look at in this food court. Please stop fixating on my left one. It is tastefully contained within a Maidenform bra, not sitting in a display case. Thank you. From one boobed person to a…
Caption This: Do You Smell Something?
Each week, we present you with a photo and you leave us your shards of caption brilliance in the comments. Then we laugh and laugh and struggle to pick the best caption.
Let’s Talk Boobs
I just figured out what kinds of clothes fit this pair, dammit, and if they go changing size and shape on me, this fashion-challenged person is going to have go back to the drawing board.
I’m starting to understand the allure of muumuus.
On Flashing Strangers and Other Methods of Finding Families for Playdates
The short of it is that I just flashed the lady at the grocery store. That’s right: I just showed the cashier my left breast (the bigger one), and I think she liked it. The long of it is that I’m new in town, folks. I’m a Yankee (as they say), a New Yorker (as…
My milkshake brings all the YMCA administrators to my yard. LaLa-LaLaLa
A few weeks ago, I took my girls swimming at the YMCA. Meaning I bundled them up into their heavy, winter coats, wrestled them into their car seats, drove the 15 minutes there, parked in the lot and then leaned my forehead on the steering wheel and imagined what a nap would feel like. Then…
