my boobies, my friends  

farmgirl84 52F
10 posts
7/13/2006 3:13 pm

Last Read:
7/16/2006 4:53 pm

my boobies, my friends

a little piece i wrote awhile back. i hope you enjoy...

boys have a pee pee. girls have a pooty. girls have something more... of course i could go into THAT exhausting topic ad nauseum, but for the purpose of this outing, i'm talking about boobies. they are, by and large, a massive pain in the butt. nothing special to a woman - they're just THERE. of course, men seem to like 'em... a lot. without them men might actually have to look in your eyes when they talk to you and, oh my, wouldn't THAT be awkward. like women, they are all different and come in a variety that defies description, BUT... you know me, i'm gonna try. let's see there's big ones, small ones, real ones, fake ones, lumpy ones, bumpy ones, short & dumpy ones, perky ones, floppy ones, big fat sloppy ones, (hey i'm starting to get a dr. suess vibe goin here), even ones, lopsided ones, fat ones, flat ones, skinny ones, mini ones, and my favorite while paying insurance claims the 'OMG would you look at the SIZE of those wonder her straps have notched her shoulders...we gotta approve her for a reduction 'cause that's making MY back hurt' ones. as men feel controlled and judged (from a female perspective hehehe) by the pee pee, so too women feel controlled and judged (from the male perspective and each other) by the boobies. again, i can only speak from my experience, but some things are universal. save the plumbing, boys and girls start out on equal footing. then the first one (of many) of God's practical jokes happen and things change. yes, i'm talking 'bout nipples, willis. just nipples. well actually they arent really nipples, they're certainly not breasts. they're 'i-can't-believe-they're-not-boobies'. (thanks Fabio). at such a tender age, how cruel. is it any wonder girls start to have self-esteem issues? there you are tripping merrily along in life. you can take your shirt off if you wanna - no problem, we all look the same, right? then one day, with no forewarning - bloop - they pop out and are oh-so-obvious. starting years of poor posture and book-on-my-head, "stop slouching", stand UP straight smacks from gramma. in my case, i think i accidentally blew instead of sucked on my thumb after a particularly hard day. the bloopages cause problems in several areas. first of all, they hurt. sensitive doesn't begin to cover it folks. second, the training bra.... huh? what are we training pray tell. its not like it COVERS IT UP. and the tortures wrought by the bra strap snap at the hands of pre-adlescent males are humiliating and painful. suddenly at an awkward age you have these obvious, little bumps sticking out from formerly concave places. impatiently you wait, 'train' the little nippers, and experiement with kleenex and socks (hoping no one will notice or at least wont say anything) to get a feel for what it will be like when the proof of your womanliness makes their long-awaited appearance. finally, the "big" day arrives and mommy takes you bra shopping to trade-up for a new size. interesting thing about my mother. tho' being somewhat mammarily-challenged her daughters didnt suffer from the same affliction and mother believed in GOOD support. i, of course, was mortified. i gained new perspective when i, in turn shopped for bras with my girls. MOTHER!!!! REALLY!!!! i guess i probably shouldn't have hollered "WHAT ABOUT this ONE?!?!?!" and waved the offensive fripperies while they were several aisles away. whoops, my bad. live and learn.... ah, but as usual, i'm getting ahead of myself. sorry, must be my senility again. suddenly, i, the former gap-toothed, coke-bottle spectacled, book worm was getting noticed. i think the fact that my mother was my 6th grade teacher had something to do with my new found popularity... but my dance partner (and first crush), paul, seemed to really enjoy the view... and due to an untimely growth spurt, he was just the right height... sigh. onward and upward exploring new and more bra sizes as i rapidly developed. fortunately, i didn't have the same problem as my daughter who is bustier than i. in jr high she had the lovely experience of a boy reaching out and grabbin some handfulls on a dare to "see if they were REAL". she soccer kicked him. she shoots, she SCORES, he dropped to the floor. that's my girl. but its not just the boys. girls can be mean. jealous whispers of "she stuffs" or "shes a whore" can be heard whereever young girls congregate and a poor victim of early and/or explosive mammarial development walks by. thus begins the baggy stage of fashion for many in an attempt to hide from prying eyes. honestly i never really noticed mine as a teen because i had such a complex. we were competitive as many sisters are and i just couldnt compete... in monopoly, in scrabble, in softball, or in this. my older sister was a 6ft tall, willowy, knockout built like a brick outhouse by the time she was 13. yeah, i got a LOT of attention from boys of the "how's your sister - do you think she likes me" ilk. whup-de-doo!!! and my step-sister... a swedish girl with boobs the size of watermelons got her share of attention as well. i didnt get any or any that i actually wanted. i think my step-dad (affectionately known by our classmates as "Crazy Old Man Carlson") might have had something to do with that, but that's another story. i slimmed down, rebelled, met, and married my husband of 20 years. i still slouched, wore baggy clothes, lowered my eyes (he was and is a jealous, controlling man), and remained clueless to the power within errrr on me. the only thing i noticed about them was that he sure liked 'em and that was fine by me. on to pregnancy and breast feeding. after you've been pregnant for a few months, your milk comes in. the TRUE purpose of the pleasure mounds makes itself known to you... magic milk bags. the heaviness, painful swelling, stretchmarks, darkening of the aereolas, and enlargement of my nipples to baby bottle size was a new, not altogether unpleasant experience. i still remember the tingling sensation of having my milk drop, the contentment in bonding with my babies as i gave them immunity and sustenance, the thrill of accomplishment in being able to six-gun shootout across a room with deadly accuracy and the embarrassment of leaking all over my shirt as the mexican ladies at the meat-packing plant in which i was employed tee heed, "is you baby hungreee?" still i wouldnt trade it for the world. it is something a man will NEVER experience or understand to their detriment. they only know the pleasure principal and while i continued to do my wifely duty, for years all i could think of while that was going on was, "is you baby hungreee?' ironic but, yes... yes he was. in my late twenties the maternal instinct faded as my daughters matured, i actually developed some style sense and i started to NOTICE that THEY (my leetle friends) were getting noticed. in fact, i started to realize that many times i had extended conversations with "gentlemen" and they didnt look in my eyes - not once...ever. it annoyed me. hey buddy, UP HERE, yes HERE. that's a goooood boy....gooooood boy. look at the pretty lady, look at her FACE. noooo, you're doing it AGAIN. up HERE. that's right. i never was one to take the "tits on a platter" approach. perhaps i should have, those girls DO seem to get ahead (or a head or a lotta head as the case may be) and for some reason are more promotable in a professional setting. silly me, i tried to get ahead on my intellect and work ethic. hmmmmm. now, i'm in my 40's, single, reasonably attractive for my age and i've finally come to terms with what it means to own my humps. i don't mind so much the conversations with my chest. as i see it, they've done their part. time to let the girls have a little fun before the effects of gravity have them chatting with my belly button (or knees). i guess i'll wrap up now. and i didnt even get to tell you about breast exams (it feels like a lumpy tit, doc), breast cancer (yeah, it runs in the family) or the clear plastic torture device invented by a MAN known as the mammogram. ever seen the MAN-o-Gram cartoon? hehehe. now THAT would be an invention i wouldn't mind investing in. but there's always later. me and the twins gotta go to bed. we have a big day planned tomorrow. its free willy sunday. that's the day i release them from their elasticized bonds to hang free as God intended. they like that and so do i. hey, nothing but the best for MY boobies. my friends.

GamicVogueAquae 36M
2 posts
7/13/2006 3:44 pm

hi how r u doing?

manlovesfun99 62M
23 posts
7/13/2006 3:45 pm

well said......bobola

rm_theblitzer42 54M

7/13/2006 3:48 pm

I like your story, very creative. What you are given is what you have. Myself, as a man, love women's breasts. The bigger, the better the tighter the sweater, as they say whom ever they are. There are so many things you can do to have fun with them in the bedroom behind closed doors. What about breast feeding (yum-yum), mommies milk can,t be beat and with a big pair I wouldn't have to go get milk for my cereal in the morning (just joking... no I'm not!) Love ya sweetie, take care.

RouteVogueImbed 56M

7/13/2006 6:59 pm

What a wonderful story, from a funny, smart and beautiful woman. From what I can see in your picture you have beautiful eyes, now I am not saying that I would not look at your "boobies" BUT the eyes are the window to the soul. I have some really great information for you, I can assist you in reducing your risk of breast cancer by 75%. I hope to get to know you better. Z

runzwithknives 61F

7/15/2006 9:39 pm

...the thrill of accomplishment in being able to six-gun shootout across a room with deadly accuracy and the embarrassment of leaking all over my shirt...

LMAO. Great post. Only women truly understand. Thanks for this and welcome to blogland. Hugs, Rosa

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