My last post put me in mind of a couple of other tit-related stories, involving Yours Truly. Oh, wait. First I have to tell you about the huge conch shell my husband and I found at Sanibel Island. It had a crab in it. I picked it up and was looking at it and threw it down due to the critter inhabitance (and screamed like little girl, if truth be told), and YCU had the nerve to get upset with me, as if that weren’t perfectly normal. He had to go looking for it under the water again. He found it, we named the crab Sebastian, then accidentally committed crabicide. We were just trying to get him out of there so we could have his shell. *sighs*
Anyway, back to the boob stories. When I was in college, I had a history class. One day, as I was walking out of history class, I was slinging my backpack over my shoulders, and it just so happened that day that I was wearing one of those button up shirts with the pearl buttons that don’t like to stay closed? Yeah. Well, as I was slinging my bag over my shoulders, the blouse flies open, and (!)I flash the entire CU baseball team. Well, of course, I go flying to the nearest restroom to correct the wardrobe malfunction, crying all the way. (I wasn’t always the well-adjusted streaker I am today.) When I got home, I called my mother to tell her about the trauma I’d endured, and do you know what she did? Fell out of her chair at work, laughing. Yeah. Had to be helped up by her co-workers, who, of course, had to know what caused the upset. Mom of course, had to explain, which cause more even more ridicule. “Thanks a lot, Mama.” I’m still holding a grudge.
The next titty adventure comes from my horsing around days. I owned a horse for 6 years? I think. Anyway, I rode her and took care of her for longer than that, I worked at a rental stable during the summers in college. My best friend and I had signed up for a ride where we all trailered out and rode on corps of engineers property. It turned out to be 12 women, 1 child, and one middle-aged guy. You could kindof tell that he was wondering what he’d gotten into when he drove up, cause it was all us cackling women, and him. Anyway, we get there, and we’re having a good time, and everyone’s settled their horse as they can be, I suppose. The child’s mother was a total beginner, and if she’d gotten off her horse, we’d not have gotten her back on, if you know what I mean. So, naturally, when a child/horse-related emergency arose, I jumped off my horse to go help. Unfortunately, I forgot about saddle horns. My tank top got caught on it and then I was caught on the horse! Flashing everybody. And did I have a sports bra on, like I should have? Oh, no, it was laundry day, and all I’d had available was the purple lacy underwire. So everyone got a show for free. Again. Now, as I’m apologizing all over myself, the guy in the group was trying to assure me he’d seen nothing, not to worry, at least I’d had a bra on, etc. (I knew better, but decided to believe him anyway, for dignity’s sake.) At this point, my best friend in the back of the line heard what he’d said and hollered over the whole group :”Have you seen the size of those things? She’d better be wearing a bra, she’d black both her eyes!” I’m still holding a grudge. Anyway, those are some of the stories of the man-eating boobs. And then they come busting out during vacations and cause emergency shopping trips. What’s a girl to do?