A friend of mine is currently going through breast cancer. This series of blog posts is inspired by a goal to increase our awareness of breast HEALTH.
“Energy flows where the attention goes.”
About 15 years ago I did something that you would expect from a teenager. I was in my early 30s . . .
Boys and their Toys
Several winters ago, Exy-Poo took an interest in snowmobiling. For those of you who live in a warm climate, one, I hate you; and two, snowmobiles are like motorcycles on skis. Only colder.
During one of his rides, Exy-Poo discovered what he called a “snowmobile club house” – a place for other winter enthusiasts to stop and have a drink or bite to eat. The club house effect came in because you could only get there by snowmobile.
After several weeks of him taking off for a ride and coming home hours later looking content and relaxed, I told him that I wanted to go with him on his next ride. And while deliberately freezing my ass off on the back of a vehicle in the dead of winter was not on my bucket list, I was curious.
For some reason I had a vision of this “club house” and it included a lot of sexy, well-endowed waitresses. So what do I do just before we head out on our ride? I stuff my bra with thick, white socks and put on the tightest sweater in my closet. (Clearly “mature” is NOT the word I would use to describe myself back then.)
We rode around for over an hour on trails that had been cleared especially for the sport of snowmobiling. Through woods and across fields, all the while I couldn’t wait to arrive at this infamous club house so that I could warm up and remember what it felt like to take the blood circulating in my body for granted again.
Finally, we approached this shack of a building in the middle of the woods somewhere. My time for showing off my newly created, sock-inspired voluptuousness had arrived. I was both excited and nervous. And even a little worried. Part of me wondered about this “other life” that Exy-Poo had suddenly gotten involved with while the other part of me worried that I wouldn’t fit in. At the time, socks in my bra seemed the best way to increase my chances. (Don’t even bother to ask me to explain this.)
We walked in, Exy-Poo nodded to a few of the other “regulars” and we sat down at a table. As he looked over the menu, I was busy looking around. To my surprise, everything around me screamed UNpretentious.
The bar/dining room was scarcely decorated and over-run with simple wooden tables and chairs, all placed around a fireplace in the middle of the room.
While I had expected an infestation of Dallas Cheerleader-types flirting around, what I actually found was a bunch of middle aged adults all dressed to defeat the cold: big boots, snow suits, layers of sweaters and hat head in abundance.
Then I noticed a couple of men at another table staring at my chest.
“Oh. My. God! Someone is staring at my boobs! I knew the socks were I good idea,” I said to Exy-Poo, possibly a little too thrilled.
“Yeah. About that,” he whispered to me over the table. “I think the ride moved them out of place because one is about four inches lower than it should be.”
I quickly pulled my jacket back on and walked to the ladies’ room. In the privacy of my solitude, I looked down and realized that he was right. The vibration from the snowmobile ride had completely distorted my socks-in-bra figure.
I pulled out the socks, put my bra back into place and since I was chilled to the bone, put the socks on where they belonged. My feet.
PS. To this day, whenever I’m wearing a padded bra, Exy-Poo asks me how many pairs of socks I’m wearing. Yeah. He’s funny.
Click here to read A reflective post about breasts – Part 1