Last week I was informed that I was one of only10 bloggers to win a media training session with  a big NYC public relations firm. Hopefully I’ll learn a lot and be prepared for the crush of interviews when I become a media darling because Bodacious Boomer has become a ginormous hit.! LOL. I’m told the value of the session is $500. I just hope I can remember some of what I’m told during the four hour session.

Tomorrow night is our first party for BlogHer. I am going to The People’s Party. The Bloggess and some of her friends are hosting it. I’ve never been to one of these before and frankly, I’m a little apprehensive. But what the Hell, how badly can I screw it up? I’m just gonna be me; and I’ve said before, I’m not an acquired taste. People either really like me or really not, pretty much from the get-go. Wish me luck!

So here’s what happened on the road today:

I wore a cotton sundress today. It’s loose everywhere but in the bust. Let’s just say my cup runneth over. When I wear it out and about to go shopping I have a white tank top I wear underneath it. However, just  to ride in the car I didn’t really think about it.. After all, who’s going to see me anyway but family?

We drove over 500 miles today. I’m usually good to go in the morning-awake and alert. But after a hundred miles or so, I always get sleepy. SoI lay the seat back a little and doze. Well, I noticed while dozing today that a lot of trucks were honking at Doug. I said “You’d better be more careful.” He just smiled and said nothing. Once when he stopped to get gas he put a couple of $$’s in the top of my dress. ” Partial payment for later.” It had never crossed my mind to remove it.

A few hundred miles down the road, we stopped to get gas again. I was hopping out to go to the loo. Doug said “You’d better tie your straps up first.” Then Doug explained what all the honking had been about. He actually used a visual aid to explain. He had taken this photo when I was tilted back sleeping while he’d been getting gas earlier in the day. (I’d slept through that stop.)

Actually the driver in an 18 wheeler would’ve gotten a much better view. Fabulous.

Miles traveled- 1368

Ice T and Mrs. T dressed for an evening out

One of my favorite TV shows is Law and Order SVU. Doug and I watch it all the time. I’d heard before that at one time, Ice-T , one of my favorite actors on the show, had been a pimp. Looking at this photo, I can believe that.

Does this look weird or is it just me?

If what I’ve read is correct Mrs. T even had toosh implants to go along with her boob implants. One doctor stated he thinks the tooshplants are actually made from hard silicone. (Perhaps she did it so she wouldn’t fall over.)  I don’t think they look very good. What do you think?

She looks just a little too happy to me.

Although it’s only May 30, summer has arrived in Houston. It kinda crept up on us this year, and is already holding us like that relative you only see every few years that hugs you too tight and too long, like you gave them a kidney or something; and what is that smell?

I looked up Houston weather on WIKI and it said Houston is “humid subtropical”.  I haven’t been to the Amazonian rain forest, but I cannot imagine it being more humid there than Houston is in the summer.

For those of us who suffer from MMS, Massive Mammary Syndrome, Houston summers are about as welcome as the heartbreak of psoriasis or hemorrhoids. For more info on MMS, check out this bit from Two and a half men.

I think the luckiest women in Houston in the summertime all have TB. I have a friend with TB. I first wrote about women with TB, tiny boobs, last July. (Seems I can’t get away from the subject.)  She can walk around for hours outside in Houston, in the summertime,  and when she returns home, her bra would be dry. Mine, not so much. Which, in reality, means that I could wring enough liquid out of my bra to give every person in a lifeboat a drink.

Now it’s true when we were both in our 20′s I looked a lot better in a swimsuit than she did. Now, some 35 years later, the boob is on the other foot.

While my bras, for the most part, still look like they’ve been constructed by the Army Corps of Engineers, she can still wear the cute little lacy “One size fits all” numbers that are always on sale for $4.99.

I really wouldn’t even mind that quite so much if my expensive bras really got the girls completely UP (and kept them up),and off my chest so I didn’t wind up all sweaty under there. It feels awful, looks awful, can smell awful and if that wasn’t enough, wears out your bras quicker! You can even get a nasty rash from that area staying damp for too long.

But talking about bras is not what today is all about. I saw this product on TV the other day and I wanted to share the info with my busty sisters who also have MMS. They are called Bramates. I’m ordering some today. I’ll let you know how they work.

And if any guys are reading this, you should order these as a surprise for your significant other. Show your sweetie you really appreciate her. It’d be a really considerate thing to do; and no, they don’t come in red or black. Deal with it. Not everything has to be about you, does it?

Today or tomorrow depending on which site you check, kicks off National Feel Your Boobies Week. I’m a big believer in feeling your boobies since my mom, now 85, has had aggressive breast cancer, twice. Now she’s left with the chest of pre-pubescent girl. But that’s OK. She’s still here and as far as I know healthy- at least for now. Her last bout with breast cancer was 15 years ago. My mom was never a big believer in feeling her own boobs. (Perhaps that is a generational thing. I really don’t know).

My dad died when my mom was 55. Her first bout of breast cancer hit when she was 65. They found the lump at her doctor visit one day, biopsied it the next day, did a radical mastectomy the day after that. Mom never went for a second opinion or even investigated other options. She said since my dad was gone she was “done with them” anyway. I remember thinking that was a harsh statement but her mind was made up. Needless to say, I became a self-exam zealot once my mom was diagnosed.

I had a scare about 10 years ago. After my annual mammogram, I got a call from my Dr.’s office saying I needed to come in for “a chat”. I’d known the nurse who called me for almost 20 years. She’s seen me for three pregnancies, fibroids and a hysterectomy. I told her I knew she didn’t want me to come in to give her my recipe for tuna noodle casserole; just tell me. She read the report to me, word for word. When I heard the words “suspicious shadow on the upper left chest wall”  I just about fell over. I didn’t freak out, but I remember my heart racing in my chest.

I couldn’t get in for the ultrasound for three days. Waiting was the pits. Then laying in that cold room, boob all covered with cold gel, while the ultrasound tech took the images was awful. (Doesn’t everyone expect the worst)? I know I did. Of course as soon as it was done, I wanted the results. It was Friday morning. I was told it would be late next week before I would have the results. I got the address for the radiologist and went directly there and politely asked that my scan be read that day. The office manager said that couldn’t be done. I explained that that just wouldn’t do and that I did not intend to leave, no matter how long it took, until my scan was read and my doctor had the results. I was prepared for a sit-in if necessary. Five hours later the office manager came out to me and said my Dr. had a verbal report. She wasn’t thrilled with me. I didn’t care. I thanked her and immediately went to my gyno.

I was told no more tests were needed. I didn’t have cancer. I was elated. Doug gave me a big hug. I went home and slept deeply for the first time in 4 days. I was really lucky and I know it. Now, although I don’t have health insurance, I still get a digital mammogram every year and I still feel my boobies. (I’m also lucky enough to live with an eager volunteer boobie feeler). No one knows your boobies like you do though. So ladies, get to feeling! Remind your friends to do the same. And for the men reading this-make sure the women you love are feeling their boobies every month. It’s a really good thing- for both of you. Today’s trivia answer- running a TV for four hours.

She explains to a friend that it’s not so much that she wants to be with younger guys, it’s just that the guys her age are all “broken, gay or dating younger girls”. I have a friend 53 who’s been a single mom for as long as I’ve known her, nine years now. She is not an unattractive in the least, taking yoga and spin classes. Her son who just started high school. Over the years I’ve met a couple of the guys she went out with for a while. One seemed nice enough to me. However, according to her, whenever they were “together” she thought he was going to completely sever her spinal cord. She nicknamed him “the biter”. Another one of her beaus apparently was an alcoholic and would get completely bombed whenever they went out. (She hated that). She kept him around for awhile though. Apparently he was quite the carpenter. (He had a large tool and was very handy with it).

I last spoke to her about a month ago. Now she’s seeing a guy again that she’d broken up with a few months before. She said he was a good guy, however she knew it really wasn’t going to go anywhere long-term. He has a bunch of kids from a previous marriage and just too much “baggage”. I see now that it’s a distinct possibility that she’ll be alone forever. That’s very sad.

I can’t imagine what it would be like for me having to be “out there” again and start dating- with all that entails. If you believe what was said last night on the show, I’d be competing with women half my age- women who’s boobs still point north and who’s short term memory was still intact? I don’t think so. Just the thought of that is extremely daunting to me. In addition to making me laugh, Cougartown made me realize just how lucky I am. I think I’ll show Doug some “appreciation” before he heads out for Dallas. Today’s trivia answer- He’s the voice for all AOL greetings.

Since most of the girls at the dorm were gone on dates Friday night, the halls would be pretty empty. Also, my room was the very first room on the hall, it wouldn’t be hard to sneak him in. All I had to do was make sure the girl at the check in desk was busy at the time and I could walk him right by. It would be easy. Most of the girls slept in on Saturday morning, so there’d be less chance of him getting seen leaving  then. Since I wasn’t on the pill at that time, I went to the pharmacy across the street and bought some foam to make sure I didn’t get pregnant.

My roommate Laurie knew what was going on. Besides, since we each had our own bedroom, it wouldn’t be awkward for her. I called Reggie and asked him if he’d like to come over. I guess it was in essence, a booty call. He didn’t hesitate before he answered. What 18 yr. old guy would’ve? In fact, I think he was downstairs before I got the phone hung up. Just as I suspected it was easy to walk him right to my room. Since I had a kitchenette in my room I had snacks and drinks in case we wanted anything “later”.

We talked for a few minutes then he put his plan into action. First the kissing, (I was sure he was checking to see if my tonsils were still there), then he squeezing and “tuning” my boobs. (I thought he was trying to bring in Mars on the radio, turning the knobs left, then right). I remember wondering if other girls really enjoyed this. By the time that part was over he was ready for the main event, so to speak. Now, I’d never seen one of those things before and frankly was amazed. (Of course I didn’t say anything about it).

I excused myself and fumbled around with the foam in the bathroom, just hoping that I was doing it correctly. I came back to bed for the grand finale. And so it began. (I felt like a piece of round steak getting tenderized). After ten minutes of huffing (him- not me), it was over. I laid there thinking -That’s it? That’s what all the hub-bub is about? Why? What a mess! He was sweaty; I was sticky. At that point all I wanted was for him to be gone, but that wasn’t going to happen til morning. He just laid there, then slept. I didn’t expect sonnets or anything but I didn’t even get a “Was it good for you?” (Of course back then I didn’t know what to expect- but I knew it had to be something better than what I had just experienced).

Looking back I just realized that was 40 years ago. I’m hoping that the young guys these days are either more knowledgable or at least less selfish. Reggie slipped out of my room the next morning undetected. (Of course now with the advent of co-ed dorms, I guess having a guy in your dorm room would no longer be an issue). Sadly, it was years and more than a few more “tenderizations” before I knew what all the hub-bub was about. It really made me appreciate someone who knew their way around a female body. So, I ask you, your first time, “Was it good for you?”. Today’s trivia answer-molasses.

On the plus side I don’t have a big dry cleaning bill. Nor do I have to iron anything. In face I haven’t ironed anything in over fifteen years. (If Doug wants anything pressed he sends it to the cleaners.) In my defense, I really never learned how to iron when I was still at home. My mom had a wonderful woman named Lela Mae who came to our house every Weds. from the time I was three until I was thirty. She would clean the house in the morning, then have her lunch while she watched As the World Turns. After lunch she’d start the ironing. (She had one of those sprinkle tops stuck in a bottle of water she used to dampen the clothes.) I was amazed at how fast she could iron and how perfectly.

I did iron a little when the kids were young. Amanda went to private school for her first two years and had to wear a uniform. If I didn’t get it out of the dryer soon enough I’d be stuck having to iron it. After that she went to a very small school for young brainiacs. They didn’t believe in uniforms, not wanting to stifle the creative mind. (I fully supported that philosophy.)  I’ve read that some people really get into ironing-kinda of Zen thing I guess. I can’t imagine that, but to each their own.

The down side of being self employed and working from home (most of the time) is that it’s easy to become complacent and not give a thought to what you’re wearing day after day. Some days, if I’m having a all-day hot flash, I’ll sit in here at the computer with just a tank top and undies, a fan blowing on me from two feet away. I keep my thermostat set above 84 and I still got an electric bill for over $400 last month-for a one story house. How crazy is that?

After putting it off as long as I could, I finally went into my closet last night. Other than trying on swimsuits under unflattering fluorescent lights at a store, going through my closet really ranks up there on my “I don’t want to do this.” list. I was face-to-fabric with some of my unfortunate clothing choices from the past. (I should never go shopping alone.) Why did I think I could ever wear horizontal stripes? I’m 5’4″-or I was before I started to shrink. The ghosts from failed diets past were lurking in there too, just waiting to ruin my self-esteem. I heard them whispering to one another “She really thought she was  going to get into that again?” Then they snickered.

As my father used to say “I girded up my loins” and went right on in, passing the pencil skirt that’s never been worn and ruffled blouse. (Why I ever thought I needed to draw attention to my boobs I do not know.) In the past, I’d get bummed out and leave the closet without having faced my fears. This time, I was a woman on a mission. The clothes I knew I would never wear for whatever reason were taken out and bagged for Katy Christian Mission, the local resale shop. It was a liberating experience.

When I went into the closet this morning it was silent. It was great. All of the ghosts are gone, never to return. I am in the here and now and not going back. It feels good.

When I was much younger and there was a hurricane approaching Houston my friend and I chose to ride out the storm at my parent’s house where we thought we’d be safer, since we both lived in an apartment complex nearby. We brought our laundry over to do while we were there. My mom pulled out Diana’s bra from the dryer and said “Oh look, a Barbie bra.” Everyone shared a big laugh then. Back then I thought it was a bummer that she couldn’t wear certain things because they just weren’t flattering on her less than ample chest. Now that we are both in our late 50’sthings have changed. My friend can still go without a bra and look OK. I, on the other hand, look like I have been a professional wet nurse for the last 30 years. Of course there were more than a few times over the years when they worked to my advantage. I used to be a face painter at the Renaissance Festival and had to dress in a period costume. Wearing a demi bra, the waist cincher and the full skirt I looked voluptuous. (Too bad I can’t dress like that everyday.)  I was single then and made the most of the attention.

I came from a long line of gigantoid bosoms. I remember being rocked by my grandmother when I was little and thinking she was so soft- like pillows. I didn’t realize until I was much older than my grandmother never wore a bra. In the early 70’s my father purchased an evening dress for my mom for a business dinner. It had a plunging neckline, to say the least.  Mom tried it on and came out to model it. She filled it out and it looked great. Instantly my dad announced that she could never wear that dress in public.- Strange how that dress was never returned to the store.

It was obvious to me that my fate was sealed early on. (I was the only girl in Brownies with a training bra.) I was even OK with them in my 20’s and 30’s when, although they couldn’t be described as “perky” they still looked great under clothes. I remember coming home from college with a halter top on and no bra. I was admonished by my mom as soon as I entered the house. “Go put a bra on. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”  Who knew? I was 18 and listened to very little my mom told me back then. Of course she was right and that statement has come back to bite me on the backside.  Over time they have slipped, drifted, migrated or dare I use the dreaded “S” word- sagged.

The good news is that I’m married to a great guy who swears he loves my boobs. I guess that should be all that matters. He said there is even a website called “Big Naturals.” He’s encouraged me to look at it saying that they all look like mine. However, I’ve never even been tempted to go there. I watch women on TV who have TB, (tiny boobs), lamenting their fate. If they only knew what I and all the other BB’s (big boobed) deal with every day-bra straps that dig into your shoulders, the chafing in the hot weather, not being able to find a dress that fits in the bust, the underwire that’s popped out and is shish kabobbing you at the exact worst moment of the day. Not to mention the fun you have when you go bra shopping. Size DDD and above can’t even be found in most stores. So, when you do find one somewhere, you practically have to take out a second on your house to pay for it. And you can forget pretty and sexy bras. Most of them look they’ve been made by the Army Corps of Engineers- structure and support you know. On the plus side though I can always get a job posing for National Geographic so I’ll never be unemployed.

So I guess it’s true that you always want what you don’t have.