The spring in my flip phone has died. My perky little white phone used to fairly jump to life at the mere touch of my hand. Now I have to help it open and hold it there for fear of hanging up on my mother. I was demonstrating the phone's lack of enthusiasm for life last night when my husband suggested my Nokia needed some Viagra. After the roar of laughter subsided (he doesn't usually say things like that) it occurred to me that I may be in need of a touch of Viagra in other areas of my life.
My breasts for example. They're just not hanging out where they used to. I was at the chiropractor the other day where the perky little assistant takes you to the room with the floor-to-ceiling wall-to-wall mirror and helps you stretch. That's really nice of her and all, but I didn't feel any better after stretching. I just kept looking at the body in the mirror in front of me. The legs weren't bad, for a grandma. The shoulders and arms were covered so as not to distract. What kept drawing my attention were the breasts that were situated somewhere well below the arm pits. Even with arms lifted high in an attempt to unkink my back, the breasts were still not even close to stretching with me.
That night I tried some modifications in the mirror. Lifting and squashing as if I had purchased a new bra that actually fit and wasn't also in need of Viagra. The problem was, to get the breasts where they looked like what they should, caused fat to back up clear to my arm pits. I looked great from the front but I couldn't put my arms down for the rolls under my arms.
Sort of like when you put on those super-elastic undergarments I call, "squooshy pants." Where does all that squished up tissue go exactly? The world may never know...
Like the plaintive wail at the end of Officer and a Gentleman, "Lift us up where we belong!" Perhaps if I hum that constantly my breasts will get the message. Think that could work?
Nah, don't take me seriously.
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7 comments:
I feel your pain, sister! I was told by my seamstress for my wedding last summer that I would need a longline bra - available at David's Bridal for a mere $75. After pulling and stuffing and shoving,and sucking in, I managed to pack my chubbiness into this Machiavellian contraption. Now, I felt that I would never take another breathe in my life but it did slim down the love handles. I assumed that this re-distribution of fat would end up endowing my under-endowed breasts but, NO! That fat worked it's way south and no amount of coaxing would push it up where it would be the most appreciated. SO, in order to fill out the top of the bra, I now had to add "stuffing" to the cups. I thrust small shoulder pads into the cups where my fat should have gone. To add insult to injury, when I explained this to my loving fiancee', he accused me of "falsie advertising". Maybe we need the "Rawhide" bra - think 1960's TV shows, their theme was "Head 'em up, Move 'em out". Any comparison to a cow is purely unintentional.
I'm sensing a theme here... Songs to inspire, songs to uplift, songs to identify your particular breast issue. It will be like when a batter comes to the plate at a ball game and they play his little snippet of song. (Mine would be "Brick House" but that's strictly for baseball use only.)
Here's the challenge. Identify your front end song. So far we have "Head 'em up, Move 'em out, RAWHIDE" and "Lift us up where we belong."
What else have you got ladies?
"...Oops I Did it Again" (as in, I spilled coffee down my front...again)
"Don't feed me no lines, and keep your hands to yourself!"
"Blue Moon"
"Swing Low, Sweet Chariot"
"The answer, my friend, is blowing [swaying] in the wind..."
Like I said before...
"Mmmm mmmm, gotta getcha some, gotta getcha some, oooooo oooooo gotta getcha some....." you know the rest.
"Right Here, Right Now."
Hi Kris, a common friend or ours from E Free once said that she thought her two "friends" were in a free for all to see which one was going to reach the floor first!
Can you guess who it was? I'll bet not!!!!
Love ya!
Diana
Diana, I'm gonna guess Luetta. Yes?
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