Tag Archives: Boobs

Overheard: In the locker room tonight

11 May

Exhibit A: Locker room conspicuously lacking a inquisitive child.

At the pool tonight when I was changing from my swim, I was distracted because I had forgotten my flip-flops and was trying to minimize my contact with the floor. I’m paranoid that I’ll get plantar’s warts. (This is well-founded paranoia, based on my childhood as a swimmer, for the record.)

While I was putting myself through the paces, I noticed a little girl standing near me who was probably about six years old. Her mom had her hands full trying to get her younger sister stripped down, so this girl stood there, eating a banana in her bathing suit, talking to anyone within ear-shot, and staring at my boobs.

I was the only person she didn’t engage in conversation, so I’m thinking my breasts intimidated her. It’s to be expected.

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When is a melon just a melon?

17 Apr

Today I saw a bumper sticker that said, “stop to squeeze the melons of life,” and I wondered if by melons it meant breasts.

And then, because “stop” wasn’t capitalized, I got worried that part of the sticker was missing, and it originally said, “I stop to squeeze the melons of life.” The reason I was worried was because maybe it was actually a warning, like “I brake for children” or “I make wide left turns” and it was possible that if I let my mind wander, I might rear-end this guy, because there were a lot of breasts ahead of us walking along the sidewalk.

But then we drove past them, and I didn’t rear-end him, so I figured he either actually meant melons, or that there never was an “I” on the sticker. Even so, I’m glad today wasn’t the farmer’s market. No need to bait the guy with produce stands.

I’ve got your “loving kindness” right here…

29 Jan

I’ve been practicing yoga regularly for two years now. True yogis use the word “practice” because it’s part of the yoga lingo, but I use it because it’s actually kind of accurate for me; I’m not very good at it, so I simply practice, with the hopes of one day mastering it.

Anyway, tonight I found myself doing something that’s becoming increasingly common for me – mentally apologizing to my fellow yogis on my way to the studio. Tonight’s reason was simple: I’d swum right after work, then somehow scored rockstar parking in front of the Amersterdam Falafel shop in Adams Morgan (karma?) on my way home.

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