My Boobs, My Boobs What Happened to My
Preciouses??!! I'm not a braggart, but I am someone who has always prided herself in having a nice rack. I was blessed with a voluptuous set of breasts coupled w/ a comparatively small waste- since about middle school I've appreciated their power & allure. I've gotten validation on that across the board from the gay men on Fire Island who've asked permission to motorboat me to the creepy homeless man on the corner who one summer told me that I inspired him to get a job so that he could keep me in a lifetime of tank tops. And let's not forget the straight employed men & women (mostly good girlfriends) who either offered up praise or jealousy- continuing the long standing admiration of "the Girls". They have always been a badge of honor for me; and at
a modest 34DD since high school- they've now gone from Hooter's Employee of the Month status and made the crossover into Dog the Bounty Hunter's Wife territory. I knew something was going on 'cause I sensed it. I've been feeling tingles in "the Girls" for a while. When I made the inquiry to my husband at first said he couldn't tell much of a difference. Actually, his direct quote was, "It's like going from 500 miles an hour to 510." Well, that was about 2 weeks ago. In the past 14 days even he's noticed a difference. Hell, at this point, Stevie Wonder would notice a frapping difference! But I can now tell when my husband- let's call him "CJ", is taking them in cause his eyes do a buggy-thing like Wile E. Coyote when he visualizes the Roadrunner baked on a platter. And the cruelest of cruel tricks by Mother Nature on both of us is that one of my favorite erogenous zones has become a "Do not touch me there, do not think about touching me, do not look too hard at them OR expose them direct sunlight zone". If the cabinet door slams shut or the phone rings too loud I ache! What the hell? The crazy thing is- I know they're going to get bigger, but hopefully better. But I don't even want to think about how much new bras are going to set me back. So long shopping at Victoria's Secret hello Modern Maiden- or some company w/ maiden in it. Those are the comfortable ones for "big" girls right?!
If you've done so much as read the title of this blog then you know I am stand-up comic- which is sort of like being a gossip- a really funny gossip. The difference is the dirt I dish is already out when I talk about it on stage which is what makes it funny 'cause everyone hopefully knows what the hell I'm talking about. As a comic it is my job and passion to share information- especially about ME! Don't get me wrong- I'm a great secret keeper when it's someone else's secret, but since it's my business it's been a little tougher than usual upholding the "12 week/ getting through the 1st trimester rule". Especially when I want to explain to people why I randomly burst into tears on an airplane, or turn into a "mean girl" for no reason, or why I can't make it to a great friend's birthday party in The Village that starts at 9:30pm on a MONDAY night! (BTW I realize that if you're anywhere but New York City or have never lived here you're mouth is probably agape at that start time- especially on a school night.) But as a veteran New Yorker of 15 years that is nothing to bat an eye at. However, when you've gone ALL day w/ your tah-tahs aching and feeling like you've been riding the Tower of Terror non-stop it makes it a bit difficult to re-shower, apply make-up, catch a cab and pay $8 for a ginger ale while standing in stilettos in a minimalist bar.
My hush-hush secret will eventually have to come out. I mean in a matter of months I'm going to look like I've swallowed a watermelon whole or have suddenly turned from a social wine drinker into Norm from Cheers. In the mean time, I guess, I'll just have to suck it up when people assume I gave up the ghost and the gym after getting married.
