I Wanna Be A Flasher

What the fuck is the deal with boobs? Why do we all LOVE boobs so much?

Does anyone have an answer for me? At all?

No, no you don't. No one can tell me WHY we love them, just that we do. That everyone does. Any man who says he doesn't like boobs is saying that because he's never found a woman with boobs that would let him touch them and discover the magic.

I promise you, that is truth.
Women love boobs. Gay men love boobs. Straight men fucking LOVE boobs. Women compare themselves to other women based on the size of their boobs. I'm inclined to believe wars have been started, won, and lost over boobs.



By the way, you're welcome, America. I put those up there for you.

So anyway, back to what I was talking about... Wait, what was I talking about? Hell, even I don't know anymore...

Basically, I'm concerned. Yesterday, at work, this old lady(read: OLD AS FUCKING DIRT) stopped me as I was velcroing her shoes, and says, "You have BIG BOOBS. They're going to fall out all over the place."

First off, I can't wait until I can wear Velcro shoes and have it be totally acceptable. You know how many times a night I smack my face against the a wall or something because I trip over my shoe laces? None. But the fear is there. I am terrified I will someday do something that takes me on a head over heels trip to the ground, face first, and then what will I do? I have a fabulous face, and an 'eh' body. And once this face is gone, I have nothing else going for me in my favor. Sure, I have boobs, but no one marries ugly girls with great racks. I promise. I'd have to be rich or something.  Oh, wait, I don't want to get married anyway. Hell, bring on the face plant!!!

Secondly, why is this lady staring at my boobs? I'm 25 years old, she's like, 8 times that. Gross exaggeration, but that's okay. I'm great at those.

Mind you, I have on scrubs, which no person has EVER looked sexy in, or made cleavage look more awesome since the beginning of time. Well, except for George Clooney... But that man can sexify a Chuck E Cheese costume, true effing story...

I am wearing a bra and a tank top. Look, shit is strapped down like we're in combat. So please tell me why this lady thinks I'm about to fall out all over the place? My pants were more likely to go rogue on me than my damn boobs were.

I look at her, and I say, "My boobs are not about to fall out all over. Not at all. You're being silly."

So she grins, and says, "If I had boobs like that, I'd make them fall out all the time, just to mess with people." Oh my god... I don't know if she's having a moment of dementia, or sudden lucidity, but shit... This lady and I are going to be bff's. I can't wait until I can be the woman in the nursing home intentionally flashing my boobs at people.

The Boob Flasher. Totally going to be me when I'm 75. Well, it's probably not going to be pretty, since I'm blessed in the mammary region, and we all know that gravity takes over everything, but oh well... I'm still going to rock it out. You only live once, and if I end up in a nursing home when I'm old, I'm going to have some fun at other people's expense. And it's not like they can blame me or anything.

I'm old. I don't know what I'm doing. :)

***I also want it noted that I am writing this blog at 7PM on a fucking Saturday that I am off of work. Yeah, we can all tell just how fucking sad my life is. Thanks for reading this on Sunday morning, with your hangover. And also for not calling me to hang out with you while you got drunk on Saturday. Assholes.***