Love...

Love comes in many forms. There's the love of a family - often strained and tested, because families are more times than not made up of people who may never have chosen one another otherwise. There's the love of friends - transient and fickle at times because people come and go, but for those who are blessed with a life-long friend it's steady and true and chosen. But this isn't about those kinds of love. This is about the other kind of love, the kind that most people yearn for and seek out whether they possess any true understanding of it or not. This is about the love that buckles your knees, that sweeps you off your feet, the romantic love that many people give up on finding.

Fairy tales are just that...fairy tales. They leave out the day-to-day, real-life things like bills, kids, families, jobs, etc. These are the things that can cause the glow of romantic love to fade. People can smother love, choke the life out of it with insecurities and fear.
People can mistake jealousy for love, anger for passion, and completely misconstrue the reality of a relationship all because the heart gets involved. Face it, love can make people act crazy. It can turn a world upside-down or set it right. It can make you run or steel you against anything. I suppose like anything else in life, it's all about your perspective, your collected experiences, and your willingness to try.


My favorite fairy tale always was (and still is) "Beauty and the Beast".


"Yes, yes," said the Beast, "my heart is good, but still I am a monster."
"Among mankind," says Beauty, "there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart." ~ Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont Beauty and the Beast.


I think I always got that about love, that in its truest form it goes beyond what's on the outside, that it can transcend the physical limits of the people involved. Maybe my life would have been easier if I had perfected the frail woman role of Snow White so I could be rescued, or simply dreamed of the fancy dresses and home of Cinderella and looked for a wealthy prince. But that's me, chase after the loftiest idea of what love is with the tenacity of a mother wolverine.

Most of my attempts at having this kind of reciprocated love were failures. Hell, all of them until my current husband. Lots of people have this notion that by loving someone with everything you have, you can fix them or change them somehow or that they'll want to change for you. I wasn't any different in the beginning, I didn't try to change anyone, I just foolishly thought they'd think enough of me to change certain things. Well I can tell you this, you can't fix someone who doesn't want fixing or doesn't think anything is wrong. You also can't fix stupid...or cheaters, liars, nut-jobs, and the clueless.


What I always wanted - yearned for - was a passionate love. My parents are a generation, it seems, that thinks love just fades into the everyday and that passion naturally goes away with time, that it's not meant to last. I honestly can't recall them holding hands much less kissing. I wanted excitement, a deep connection, a man who wanted me, couldn't keep his hands or his eyes off of me, who kissed me like he wanted to be inside me, who would take me when he wanted me, who made no secret of how much he wanted me...I could go on and on and on. 


What I learned from my first marriage is that wanting something badly and working to have what you want don't amount to shit when you want something from someone that they just can't give. I'm reminded of something he said numerous times, "Wish in one hand, shit in the other and see which one fills up fastest." I finally figured that one out as far as he was concerned.

But I woke up, smelled the shit and moved on......


Another funny thing I've learned about love is that you don't get to plan it. Love has it's own plan, it's own schedule. You can't plan when you're going to fall in love any more than you can plan who it will be with. If you're thinking that you can, you may want to dig out those little papers called "restraining orders" that you tossed aside and brush up on some details.


When I met my new husband, falling in love was the farthest thing from my mind. I had just faced the realization that the first husband had been cheating on me, I didn't have a clue what to do, where to go or how to start over. Love was the least of my concerns. But God and fate have a way of intervening when it's needed most.


Honestly, I had suppressed my own desires and happiness for so long in the first marriage, overlooking the signs that it just wasn't right or good for me, that my subconscious was taking over. I'd been trying for years to kick-start some sort of passion. Finally, I was done begging for attention, affection and passion. I was losing weight and sleep. I would go out driving during the day, listening to music, always songs about passionate love and finding your way out of the bad places you end up in sometimes. 


But when I saw Tracy, my heart was up and running, faster than I could process what was happening. For the first time, my mind - weary with everything that was going on, couldn't override my heart. After so many years of being numb, finding that passionate love I had craved was frightening, all of my walls were down, finally, and I was determined not to let them go back up again. Of course that also meant feeling anger, rage, sorrow, the whole range of emotions, good and bad. But that's another lesson I learned, you can't have passion without all the other emotions. If you lock yourself away from pain, you also lock yourself away from joy.


This seems like it's rambling to me, I hope its not, but that's kind of what passionate love is like. It's like a wild rambling rose growing through every crack and gap, becoming a part of every inch it touches, holding tight with its thorns.


Other things I've learned about love...


You have to love yourself in order to find real love with someone else. If you can accept yourself, the good and the bad, and love yourself, then you'll be in a good place for loving someone else. It means you won't give up who you are or your dreams just to hold onto someone.

You have to know the things you want, the deal breakers, what you can deal with and what you can't. Stick to those things and don't settle. It's hard when you're lonely, I've settled out of fear of loneliness, so I understand completely but I've also had to recover myself at the other end of that scenario. If you walk into a relationship being 100% true to who you are - no dressing to impress, no tolerating things that you wouldn't normally tolerate, no going along with things to fit with someone - and it doesn't work out, then you haven't lost anything and there's no blame to place. If you're being you, and they're being true to who they are then it's all fair and there's no blame to place. If you've honestly done this a failed relationship doesn't make either of you wrong, it just makes you not right for each other. I know lots of people who go into relationships, ignoring things they don't like, thinking they can change the other person somehow, who - when it crumbles - can't see how they had any role in what went wrong.

Love doesn't solve life's problems and it doesn't just stick around needing no effort. You have to work at it. You have to make time for love and passion. If only one person is making the effort, eventually that one person will grow weary. If no one is trying...well, there's nothing there anymore, is there? Love needs space, time, patience, effort, forgiveness, a compass, an accomplice and it needs to be needed.


You can't force love. It either grows or withers, and that's completely dependent on you. I've heard it said that making a relationship last means falling in love with the same person over and over. I used to interpret that as meaning it was natural to fall out of love with someone and then you'd work to get it back. But I learned that it doesn't come back if it goes and if it goes, it has either simply run its course or it wasn't really love. Sometimes we fall in "love" with people because they're close enough to what we want, or as close as we think we'll get to it and we rationalize that "right now" person into the "right" person.

Love, quite simply, is everything it's cracked up to be - the good, the bad, the beautiful and the awful. I suppose the fact that it does have a down-side is why people can be skeptical of true love. And you really shouldn't be. I've been there. You can't control love, you can't pick who you fall in love with - timing, circumstances, situations, previous experiences - all play a part in how you react to everything else in your life including the people you meet. People come and go, some are there just to teach you something, some are there to get you through something, and when you've learned the things you needed to learn, and gotten through the things you needed to move through the door is wide open for the love that was intended for you all along.

I am loved in spite of my imperfections because I can look beyond those things in others...
I am loved for who I am because I can love people for who they are....
I am loved beyond measure because that is how I love...
and I can do this now because rather than running from love after going through the bad and awful of it I ran toward it. I learned from my experiences. I learned who I really am at my core and I learned to love myself. 


And now I have the thing I always knew I wanted...
A Beautiful, Crazy..........LOVE.....

Women...

Ask most men and they'll say that all women are crazy, and we may be. But it obviously works since they seem to have trouble living without us. (Although I will make it clear that when I say "crazy" I'm not talking about those chicks that come with papers - the stalking, obsessive, violent, delusional women. I just mean your standard run-of-the-mill female crazy.)

If you're close to my age then you know exactly who Mary Ann and Ginger are. My mother and my aunts were never the types of women who talked about what it is to be a woman. Their generation didn't seem to talk much about anything other than the day-in and day-out of life from what I recall. They worked, they kept homes and families - but I can't recall ever hearing any of them ever speak of dreams they had for themselves, of desires, of wanting or being able to be anything more or anything other than a homemaker and mom. I knew nothing more of my mom having a sex life than the fact that about once a month the bedroom door got locked. Sex wasn't a topic of discussion and I certainly never saw any of them get dolled up.

TV from my childhood didn't really help that either. Carol Brady - home and family; Mary Tyler Moore - career but no marriage, no kids; All in the Family, Happy Days, Little House on the Prairie - all home and family; Laverne & Shirley, Wonder Woman, Charlie's Angels - careers, troubled relationships, no kids. All of these shows seemed to say two things - 1. that a woman would have to choose between a successful career or a successful home life, and 2. that a woman couldn't be sexy and be taken seriously at a career and she couldn't be sexy and be married or a mom. Then there was Gilligan's Island with Mary Ann and Ginger the perfect example of splitting the "good" woman from the "bad" woman. 



Every boy I knew in my small world went back and forth between who they liked better and every girl went back and forth between which they'd rather be. On the one hand you had Mary Ann - the wholesome girl next door, the sweetheart, the one the guys would take home to mom then marry. On the other hand you had Ginger - the bombshell, the sexy bad girl who used her womanly ways to her advantage, the one the guys swooned over, dreamed about. Somewhere along the way, our society decided being a sexual woman could only exist separately from the day to day person we're expected to be and that "idea" began to be branded into our psyches from the time of mass communication's dawning age in TV, magazines, etc.


The simple fact is that women are complex creatures. Unfortunately we're also easily influenced and swayed into sacrificing parts of ourselves to "fit in" with one of society's roles for us. Who says we have to give up any part of ourselves though? If we don't allow ourselves to be crammed into molds to keep other people happy then we can be anything and everything we want to be. Many times though, fear is that deciding factor in our decision making process. I know how powerful fear is, I lived with it long enough that I lost the ability to recognize it, it had become ingrained in my daily life - keeping me from making the best decisions for myself, keeping me from being myself. On top of that, as women we wear so many hats on any given day (chauffeur, chef, maid, mother, wife, employee, etc.) that we often sacrifice the most womanly parts of ourselves - the sexpot, the flirt, the lover (and we all have those sides to us even if we're scared to let them out.)



There's not a little girl out there who, at some point, doesn't dream of being beautiful, growing up to be a "woman" with curves and long hair who makes boys go crazy. And every one of them should be told that she's beautiful - not to the point of creating tiny divas, just so that they become accustomed to hearing it and knowing when it's being said sincerely and from the heart. 


As we get older, competition and cattiness seems to set into a lot of women. All revolving around guys.....enter insecurities....enter crazy. I know women who snoop through their guy's things constantly - pockets, drawers, emails, phones. I know girls who do it to guy friends that they're not even dating!! I know guys have their own things that they worry about - but they don't (in general) obsess over things like how they look in their clothes - "is this too revealing, not revealing enough, does it make me look fat?" They don't worry about running into someone in a store when they're not looking their best. The don't gossip about who's with who, or any of the petty details that seem to become the focus of many women's conversations and sometimes lives. They don't see another guy with a girl and zero in on the guy the way women zero in on the woman. "Look at her, he's only interested in her because she's easy"," look at how she's dressed", "You know he's only interested in her body". Women will do that shit without even knowing either person in the scenario!!! You know it's true. Hell, I've even sat in church and overheard women whispering in the pews about such things. It's one thing to know someone personally, and I mean KNOW that person and make such a statement, but when I don't know the person/people myself, I try to remember that judgment is not my place and that unless you've been in someone's shoes you don't know what motivates them. Maybe women's focus goes to things like that because they've forgotten that they're capable of being exciting, of being a full on woman. Maybe they wish they had the body, the guts, the moxie, the "whatever" that another woman has. I sincerely do not know what motivates that behavior.

My husband and I were eating lunch with a male friend who made the comment that if he were a girl he wouldn't want for anything, that he wouldn't hesitate to use being female to his advantage and that it wouldn't matter how old the guy was. (This came about because he personally knows someone who has an 70+ year old wealthy "boyfriend" who's taking care of her.) Suddenly my "hamster" was wide awake and not just "turning the wheel" but running a marathon in it. I can say that I'm pretty sure I personally couldn't do that. I don't say I'm certain of it because desperation alters how people react to things. I just know that I prefer to have love in the relationship equation. I don't know the above mentioned gal so I can't say whether love is there or not, I just based this on how he stated he'd be if he was a woman.

I posed the question on our public race team Facebook page asking the guys "if you were a woman, would you use your feminine attributes to your advantage". The handful of guys who answered, did so with big "Hell yeah, I'd have a mattress sewn to my back". I asked to try to gain some insight as to whether it's men or women who are responsible for the misconceptions about and the labeling of women with big tits, the ones who dance for a living, the ones who model, etc. as loose or amoral or as sluts or whatever words get tossed out there to describe these women.  

I remember high school well, and honey, you couldn't pay me to go back. I was at one end of the spectrum - one of the girls on the edges of things, never popular, never part of any clicks, never dating, but I knew girls who were at the opposite end of things as well - the ones with killer bodies and the reputations associated with them, who were constantly asked out. I can see now how it was most likely as difficult for some of them then as it was for me. Constantly having it assumed that they're easy and stories being told on Monday morning (and knowing teenage guys and using a little hindsight, I'm sure some of the stories, if not most of them, were blown out of proportion, or fabricated for fear of looking like they couldn't score with someone with a rep.) 

I have high school classmates on our Facebook page who remember the "high school" me. But there's the catch. They have memories of me - we didn't hang out. They remember the quiet, awkward, painfully skinny me who was good at drawing and made good grades. They remember the me who had crawled into a social shell after years of rejection. If they knew me, they'd also know that my two closest friends from JH & HS were forbidden to speak to me or continue to hang out with me when their parents saw that I wasn't the type to put up with strict rules and told them they needed to stand up for themselves against their moms who screamed at them and hit them. Of course that didn't happen, I was cut loose. It hurt me a great deal but I understand, they weren't in positions where they could leave home. 

If my classmates knew me, they'd know I possess a temper - which I keep strictly controlled - one that causes me to scream and break things. I control it mainly because I don't vent this temper on others, the damage it does is primarily to my things and myself. My temper is so well controlled that my son is sensitive to me even raising my voice. Maybe not the best thing since he doesn't seem to understand that it's OK to get angry or how to deal with feelings of anger in constructive ways. Luckily he doesn't seem to have inherited much of my temper.

Did anyone in HS know that I've always dreamed of being in Playboy? It has nothing to do with being promiscuous. I've looked at "porn" magazines for as long as I can remember being able to find my dad's and uncles' stashes. I think the human body is beautiful, possessing lines and movement that only God and nature can create. Would I do it even being a mom? Hell yeah I would, especially being a mom. Having a kid doesn't mean women have to stop being sexual or desirable. I think lots of marriages fail because one partner (or both) forget how to connect sexually, romantically, passionately. But that's another blog. 

Did any of my classmates know that I dreamed of being a free-lance writer? Not just that, the whole scenario was that I'd be a free-lance writer, travelling the country and world, with lovers in different cities. I could see having a kid but I never saw being married. That's me though, (and I think, a lot of women) a walking bundle of conflicts. Decisions I made along the way are why I am where I am, as well as why I am who I am. Would I do some things differently if I could? Maybe a few things, but I wouldn't really want to alter who I am today. I'm learning to fit the conflicting pieces of me together into what's turning out to be a very challenging puzzle of a beautiful foreign landscape. But I digress... 

High school seems to be a difficult thing for a lot of women to leave behind, some guys, but more women. Looking back, the girls I remember that were well endowed actually played down their large chests for the most part. I'm sure it was as problematic for some of them as being flat chested was for me. But back then we were all still girls, trying to figure out what being a woman meant.  Not an easy thing to do with so many seemingly conflicting roles out there. 

We allow guys to play a big part in that. When we're dating, guys are often looking for exciting, fun, sexy girls. When they decide to get married enter Suzy Homemaker. But even married, a guy's head will turn at the sight of a pretty girl showing off the fact that she's a girl. (You can't say Suzy Homemaker doesn't notice the Brad Pitts, Javier Bardems, or George Clooneys, either.) But Suzy will most likely get jealous, or insecure, or catty or any combination of the aforementioned descriptives......and off we go, completely forgetting that once upon a time that probably was her. And who's fault is that? The kids' because that's when you gained the weight? Sorry, not their problem to bear. The husband's fault because he never notices you? Maybe that's it in some cases, but do you give him reason to notice? Your fault? Couldn't be, you're busy working, taking care of the kids and the house, driving to ball games and pageants, planning yard sales, attending PTO meetings, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera....

Yes, guys, as a whole, can definitely send out some mixed signals about what they want in a woman. But the ways in which we've learned as women to interact with men and that we would even treat "getting" a man like a competition, speak volumes for how far we haven't come. In the end I think the judgments, expectations, and criticisms that hold us back as women are ones we put on ourselves and other women. Most of us can figure out that a nice suit doesn't guarantee a nice guy, why can't we figure out that a woman who's comfortable with looking womanly and sexy isn't loose? Just because you've chosen to downplay certain aspects of being a woman, set aside one or more of the hats to wear others doesn't make you better or worse than another woman who chose different a different hat that day.

The funny thing for me - as someone who has been flat-chested and is now surgically well-endowed - is that I still dress the way I've always dressed. I didn't go out and get a whole new wardrobe when I got my implants - well, I did actually buy bikinis cause now I have something to put in them - my taste in clothes didn't change, it's just that I'm shaped differently now. Put a flat chested woman in a bikini and nothing is likely to be said about her character - put a curvy woman in a bikini and somehow it's a statement toward her character, a reason to question her motives for being seen. (There's nothing wrong with being flat-chested as long as it isn't bothering you to the point of interfering with your enjoyment of life. Like I've said, that was me not so long ago.) But a small bust in a bikini doesn't make that woman any more innocent than a big bust makes someone amoral.


 

There's nothing wrong with Mary Ann. I love to cook, I like evenings at home, I'm at my most comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, bare-footed cooking a meal, singing along to the radio loudly and out of key. I'm honestly a lot more Mary Ann than Ginger. But personally I always wanted to be Ginger. Probably because I was never considered the pretty one - not in my family, not in school, not in social circles once I was grown. I was always awkward and quiet. I wanted to be beautiful, sexy, adored. I wanted the fancy dresses - although I usually just felt like a little girl playing dress up when the occasion would arise that I could wear one. I wanted to be looked at as beautiful, sexy, desirable. I just wasn't able to really see what was in my mirror - add in the rejection, being cheated on, always putting someone else's dreams and wants before my own and it made being the woman I really am a very difficult endeavor.

It's been a long hard lesson to learn, mainly because I had no one to tell me, but I'm getting there - I can be a good mom and still have an exciting sex life. I can be smart and still be sexy. I can be a great cook and I can do my grocery shopping in 4 inch heels if that's what I want to do. I can make my guy swoon then be the sweetheart that bandages his head from the fall. I can do anything I want to do - dream, explore, create my own life, change my mind, start over, love ferociously, be a cookie-baking mom, in other words, I can be a woman and EVERYTHING that "woman" encompasses. I don't have to pick between Mary Ann and Ginger. And I'm glad I figured that out before I ended up like Mrs. Howell!!!


I don't have any real girlfriends to hang out with, the ones who will hang out with me, well we're always busy and running on different schedules, or we just don't live anywhere near each other. If they're happy, I'm happy for them. A lot of women don't like me though, and I've run into that since I was a teenager, although I couldn't wrap my head around it then. I  actually still have trouble understanding it and it makes me proceed with caution when meeting women, I just don't let it bother me now, that's the difference. 


Would I ever want to be a guy? Not a chance in Hell. Why? Cause then I'd have to date a woman!! And although we may be wonderfully infuriating conglomerations of the best and worst that life offers,
it doesn't change the fact that we're....beautiful CRAZY....women...  

Boobs....

That's right, I said the "b" word......boobs. Those round things on women's chests that come in varying sizes and styles and have the innate ability to turn grown men into, well....boobs. 

I've been on both sides of the "boob" playing field, Team Small (although in my case it was more like Team None-At-All) and Team Large. Yes, at the age of 39, I got implants. My husband and I have a page on Facebook and I wrote notes and posted them to our page throughout each step of the process. I'm very honest about myself, and there was no reason not to be honest about this.

Let me back this up by giving you some background. I was always curious about sex and bodies and that is for as long as I can remember. I've read since the age of three and by the time I was five or six I read my dad's and my uncles' Playboy and Penthouse magazines. Well, read them and dreamed of looking like the women in the centerfolds. I was always boy-crazy but that affection was almost never returned. Then I hit puberty and nothing, nadda, no need for a bra and no worries of my dad having an early stroke or heart attack !! I'm not sure who came up with bra sizing but DD is larger than a D-cup and there I was, 5 feet 8 inches of skinny and all legs with AA boobs. I guess whoever dreamed up the sizes found it funny to call the smallest boobs AA, or maybe they felt sorry for us and wanted us to feel like we had more somehow by giving us two letters. Whatever the case, the humor of it was lost on the teenage me. Whenever I liked a guy, the girls I saw him with always had boobs. I was dumped several times for girls with more "assets" and even told that.

Even though I felt cursed with my small boobs, I never hated on girls who had large ones, never sat around assuming she must be a slut. I honestly never was the type to bash other women based on their appearance, although I was often belittled over mine. During my first marriage I heard things like, "Boobs don't matter," but mine were never part of any foreplay or sex, or the time when looking at a Playboy magazine hearing him say, "If you had boobs they'd probably look like that." I just dealt with my insecurity about it by tossing on padded bras. Don't get me wrong the insecurity was my issue.

Enter the year 2008 - a divorce after years of being cheated on, starting over, forcing myself to face why I would let myself be in a situation like I was in, finding the love of my life, everything was upside-down and backwards and even though I finally had a man in my life that loved me and my "rare miniatures" that nagging insecurity was still there. So the research began.

         (This is WITH a padded bra - and you can see the insecurity on my face.)

 I knew I wanted big boobs so I decided to go where the doctors were accustomed to "installing" that size. Where I'm from the docs lean toward conservative "natural" sizes and doing what they think is best, not what you want. So why BIG ?? Look, at AA - it's not like people would look at me and go "ya know, something looks different, wait... don't tell me..." No, they'd know right away what was different, so there was no point worrying about what people might think or say. (Not that I should worry about that anyway since it's my life.) Factor in my height and how broad my shoulders are plus the fact that I've got a J-Lo booty following behind me and big is what it was gonna take to look balanced. An hourglass is what I wanted. No huge gap in the middle, some curve hanging over my sides, good projection - that's what I wanted. I didn't want to look at the boobs when the swelling had gone down and they were settling into place and think "I wish I'd gone bigger..." I'd hate to think I spent a lot of money to still not be happy. Look, I'm a country girl - that ain't gonna change. I'm pretty darn good at speaking my mind and I freakin' love to laugh and that includes at myself. I'm kinda like a Dolly Parton trapped in a Kate Hudson body. No offense to Kate, she's gorgeous but I wanted boobs !!! (Side note: Kate Hudson has since gotten a boob job, and she spent the same amount to get small implants that she would have spent for larger ones !!) That said though, no I did not pick Dolly size, think Pam Anderson...

I will say though, that this is not something you should do because a significant other in your life wants you to have bigger boobs. It's not something you should do because you have NO confidence in yourself and you think cosmetic surgery will fix it. Like I said, I had to gain enough confidence in myself to have the nerve to do this. I know I'm not the ugly duckling I always felt like in school. I know I have a certain skill set that makes me desirable. "Why get them at all?" I wanted to make the outside match the way I felt inside. I couldn't even fill out a size small triangle bikini top without the cups wrinkling. I love the beach and the water, but when you cover up constantly from embarrassment it puts a damper on things, especially when you look around and see girls that are 12 with more womanly shapes than yours. They weren't sagging - gravity had nothing to swing from for 39 years, so it's not like I needed a lift or to fill some void from nursing cause after nursing they simply shrunk down even smaller than before!!! No medical reason like lop-sided girls or a really dramatic difference in their sizes, I just wanted them. I honestly felt pretty sexy naked even with my "rare miniatures" - but when the clothes went on I felt like I needed the padded bras to look "right" in my clothes. The boobies were for me. 

That doesn't mean it was an easy decision. It's surgery, elective surgery, you're deciding to have this done to yourself, and if anything goes wrong, it was your decision. There are always risks to any surgery and if you've ever had a surgery, you know that anesthesia adds to the risks. That was the scariest aspect for me,especially since I'm a mom. 

I also had to break my habit of constantly worrying about what others may think. Believe me that's a tough one to overcome. I thought up every possible scenario..... 

( Insert possible stupid question here... ) 

"What kind of message are you sending to your son?" You know what, no one has been STUPID enough to ask me that, but I'll give you my answer anyway... 

I have raised an intelligent, sensitive young man and I did it in an environment where I was made to feel like I was less than everything that I am, an environment in which I settled for whatever happiness I could manage to find. But I got out of that environment and now my biggest struggle is teaching him that he is responsible for making decisions that will make him happy in his life. Teaching him that he can change things around him and in him that will make his life what he wants it to be. I know my son will not make decisions about people based solely on their looks because that's how I'm raising him. If that is truly a question that you feel you need to ask me then I think you need to look at the things on which you base your evaluations of people. I had implants put in, I did not have brain cells removed !!

Like I've said and, I hope, shown, I'm very honest. I'm also very sexual, I don't try to hide it, but I don't really advertise it either. Don't let the thoughts run too wild, I'm strictly heterosexual and I don't swing. These boobs help me look physically the way I feel - I'm sure some will call it a "porn" look - whatever. I'm a very happy girl now concerning my boobs. Without the huge rack, I was able to fly under the radar - most people looked at me as some sweet innocent thing. Now I've got tattoos and a big 'ol boobies and I'm sure some people will assume different things about me. But that just goes back to dealing with my issues of caring too much about what other people think. I'm still me after all, I'm just not going to be afraid to really be me or to let people see the real me, and believe it or not the tattoos and big boobs help me to that end.

Unfortunately for a lot of women, it's difficult to do everything we do in a day - mom, housekeeper, whatever profession we're in, chauffeur, cook, life management counselor, daughter, sister, and hundreds of other titles - and be able to look at ourselves as sexual creatures. Most of us get lost in a few roles of our choice and the other multitudes of amazing things that we are capable of being get lost in the daily shuffle. As women we should be more open and able to talk about things like our boobs, as well as all the other things that make us inherently women. I don't have time or the patience for cattiness and competitiveness with other women based on looks. A tit is a tit - it doesn't make or break the woman. Hell, we can feed our kids with 'em for crying out loud, but many of us still avoid discussions about body issues, including breast cancer & self exams based on some weird taboo or sense of security (or insecurity)?

Everything else aside, and as someone who's been on both sides of the fence when it comes to boobs, when it comes to men here's the bottom line.....

I know I'm not the only one who has encountered this type of woman so I'm just gonna go ahead and get this "off my chest" so to speak. I'm talking about those gals with the big boobs that have wrapped their entire world and sense of self-worth around their boobs. Let me let you gals in on a little secret - one that I know because I have always had more close male friends that I talk with than females - there's no such thing as a bad tit to a guy. 

Little, big, perky, droopy, even, lop-sided, a tit is a tit... 

If he can see 'em and touch 'em he's happy with 'em...

Willingness to show nips cancels out any physical defect... 

Men love tits and ALL women have some version of tits... 


I'd bet even gay guys wish they had tits, even if it's just to accessorize them. Sure big boobies are gonna turn a guy's head but you damn well better have more than that if you want to keep him. Let's face it, boobs have limited functionality and big tits or not, a guy doesn't want a bitch or a psycho. My guy wanted me even with little tits, and believe me he enjoyed the hell out of them !!! He loves the new tits too - because he sees how happy and how much more confident they make me - and maybe a little because he can't even fit his hand around around one !!! So gals get over yourselves, it's a level playing field in this wonderful age of science and technology. If you really can't stand that then feel free to go get even bigger boobs, but in the words of Ron White "you can't fix stupid." Bottom line, be the best you that you can be, cause the physical will only get you so far in life, honey. Different guys like different things, but when a guy really is happy where he is, I promise you it's what's in the woman's heart that's keeping him there.

Whether you like 'em or not, approve or not, I love my beautiful crazy.....boobs...